#settled on using the hermit a day to act as warm up

[loktauri]

Hermit A Day: Day 9 -> Stress🌸

She likes tea, she's got wings... why not tea wings?

Quilted jacket inspired by @/spiderziege. Speedpaint under the cut!

[safarigirlsp]

Santa’s Little Helper

Santa’s Little Helper

Gunfighter Flip Zimmerman x Reader

Word Count: 6.1k

Warnings: NSFW. Smut. Flip Hating Life. Humor. 

Christmas Song Prompt: Run Run Rudolph

AO3 Link

Somethin’ about the holidays always brings out the craziest of folks, US Marshal Flip Zimmerman thought, like the snow and cold get into ‘em, makin’ ‘em want to act up more than usual to keep warm. Or some damn thing like that. Flip didn’t know the reason, but he knew damn well that it was a truth he could take to the bank. During the months of November and December, people were going to make his life hell. Come Christmastime, the cells in his jailhouse were always full and the judges were tryin’ to book him up for hearings to schedule all the hangings needed in the new year.

1886 had been a helluva year so far for Marshal Zimmerman. He’d love to complain more about it, and he often did, but it was also the year that he had met his perfect new wife, so he figured he couldn’t bitch quite as much as usual.

As the snow piled deeper and deeper with Christmas comin’ up soon, all Flip wanted to do was stay at home in his cabin next to a nice warm fire, holdin’ his girl in his arms and forget anything existed outside of the fence around his ranch.

Of course, he couldn’t fuckin’ do that.

A continuous ruckus of pissed off men and concerned women had been paradin’ in and out of his office all damned week. Each and every one of ‘em complainin’ about one of the town’s more eccentric citizens.

Old man Nick, a hermit miner who lived out in the mountains in a cabin on the parcel where he had staked his claim decades ago, rarely ventured into town. He was only seen when he needed supplies or to exchange a few meager crumbs of gold nuggets for cash money at the bank. Townsfolk didn’t much like Nick, and he didn’t much like them right back.

This year, for some damn reason, Nck had been a bigger pain in Flip’s ass than usual. Flip was one of the few men Nick would talk to, and as such, the burden of dealin’ with him always fell on Flip’s shoulders. Flip had saved his old ass from gettin’ bushwhacked or even shot on more occasions than he could count.

Now, to hear people tell of it, Nick was out pissin’ off everyone in town right in time for Christmas. The surly miner had been seen in the earliest hours of the mornin’ postin’ long lists all over the place, like they were wanted posters for the James Gang. Written in bold script at the top of each was “Naughty List” and below followed a list of townsfolk. Some citizens who considered themselves mighty upstandin’ even made the naughty cut; judges, lawyers, bankers, ministers, and so on. Flip even found his own name on one such list, labeled, “Flip Shoot First and Ask Questions Later Zimmerman.” Not that Flip gave a damn himself. He’d been called worse.

Nevertheless, Flip was graciously volunteered by the town to ride out and have a chat with the miner. Even the Judge himself told Flip to get his ass out there and settle Nick down, and the Judge was a man who even Flip didn’t want to get sideways of.

Such were the events as Flip relayed them to you as he held you tight in his arms where he had pulled you into his lap, in his favorite chair next to the fireplace in his cabin.

“It’s a full day’s ride to get out there to Nick’s mine,” Flip told you, a pout on his lips as he nuzzled into your neck. “I’ll leave first thing in the mornin.’ With any damned luck at all, I’ll be back the next day.”

“Not with your luck,” you replied, running a hand through his hair as Flip huffed a laugh at the unfortunate truth of your words. “I’m going with you.”

“Like hell you are, sugar.” Flip shook his head adamantly, thinking for a moment that he might win the argument.

“The weather’s been nice and the snow isn’t that deep,” you told him, ignoring his glower. “Besides, you need me along to protect you.”

“To protect me, huh?” Flip grinned at you despite himself, resting his head against the back of his chair and appraising you. “How’s that?”

“You’re so brave. The bravest man I know,” you told him, stroking his chest affectionately. “Therefore, you are prone to great feats of stupidity. You need me to keep you in check and save you from yourself.”

Flip laughed at your comment, giving your ass a playful pinch. He chewed his lip for a moment, considering a retort before sighing in resignation. “I reckon you have a point, sugar.”

*******************************************************************************************

The following sunrise brought with it clear skies over the glistening white snow-covered ground. Riding beside Flip in the crisp dawn, you couldn’t help but admire how handsome he looked astride his big buckskin horse, a hand-rolled cigarette clenched between his teeth, its smoke mingling with Flip’s fogged breath. He wore the new Pendleton wool coat you had gifted him for his recent birthday, red plaid with a cream shearling collar, and his spurs jingled with every step of his horse. You had an even warmer wool coat in charcoal grey with a likewise shearling collar; the back split for riding, it hung down to your knees, keeping your legs warm in the freezing temperatures.

Riding deeper into the mountains throughout the day, the snowy trail Flip led you on twisted high toward the snowcapped peaks. Nick’s mine sat at the head of a mountain canyon, heavily wooded with busy green pine trees and aspen that were now devoid of leaves, naked in the winter months.

“Stay behind me,” Flip instructed you, spurring his horse ahead of yours when you entered a small clearing. Not far ahead was a small cabin seated against the rock of the mountain, smoke trailing up from its chimney into the evening sky.

As if on cue, you heard the tell-tale sizzle of a bullet flying through the air above your heads immediately before the sound of the gunshot reached your ears, echoing off the surrounding rock walls of the canyon. Flinching in your saddle, you yanked your pistol from its holster, as your black horse reared in fright.

Beside you, Flip was calm, reining his own startled horse to stand still. Strangely, he had not drawn his own gun, looking only mildly annoyed.

“Nick!” Flip bellowed in his loudest booming voice. “If you shoot again, you old bastard, I’m gonna shoot back.”

There was silence for a moment as Flip waited, grinding his teeth impatiently.

“Marshal, is that you?” Nick shouted back, a gruff drawl sounding from inside the cabin. “Well, quit fuckin’ around outside in the cold. Come in.”

The door to the cabin opened, revealing a firelit interior, although Nick didn’t come out to greet you. Grumbling under his breath, Flip rode ahead, motioning for you to follow. Near the cabin, a haphazard fence enclosed a dilapidated stable. A pair of tawney mules pricked their ears at you and Flip as you both approached. Flip rode to the fence, stepping off his horse and tying him and yours to the fence as you dismounted.

“I guess I should have warned you,” Flip said with a sheepish grin, taking your hand to lead you inside the cabin.

“What brings you out this way, Marshal?” Nick asked Flip upon your entry into his cabin before his eyes settled on you. He was a large man, nearly as large as Flip, with a thick head of white hair and a long white beard that hung down his chest. He wore only a pair of red long-johns and cowboy boots, blushing as red as their fabric at the sight of you. “This must be the missus I’ve heard so much about. The one people say is far too pretty to be shacked up with an old hound like you.”

“People say that, huh?” Flip growled, looking from Nick to you and back. “Well, they also say that you’ve gone and lost whatever few fuckin’ marbles you ever had.”

“So what if I have?” Nick shrugged with a laugh. “I don’t give two shits about what anyone says about me. Or thinks. Or any other goddamn thing they may say or do for that matter.”

“I hear tell you’ve been makin’ lists and tackin’ ‘em up all over town,” Flip continued, shrugging out of his coat now that he was inside the warmth of the cabin.

“I did,” Nick admitted, lowering his shaggy white head like a scolded puppy.

“Do you think it’s a good idea to go around tellin’ people that they’ve been bad?” Flip asked, planting his hands on his hips and glaring at the man for added effect.

“Well, Marshal, now that you say it out loud...” Nick’s words trailed away, choosing to laugh instead. Watching the old man, Flip’s scowl turned into a grin, making him chew the side of his cheek to keep from laughing outright himself. You knew that look all too well.

“What?” you asked, stepping closer to him. “What are you thinking and not saying?”

“Just a joke is all.” Flip laughed to himself. “But it’s not worth makin.’”

You only raised your eyebrows at him, giving him a silent command.

“All right. All right.” Flip raised his hands in surrender, a pink blush tinting his cheeks. “So, Nick, you must know all the naughty women in town? You ‘n me both.”

“I see,” you said, teasing him with mock derision. “Any guesses on what’s not happening when we get home now?” you teased, knowing full well you wouldn’t carry out your threat, but it was fun to rile him anyway.

“It’s just a joke, sugar,” Flip assured you, his face reflecting actual terror for a moment at your threat. Shaking his head, he returned his attention to Nick. “So, am I gonna have to come back out here again because people in town are complainin’ about your sorry ass?”

“No, I reckon not, Marshal,” Nick sighed, sinking down heavily into a chair by the fireplace. A black kitten emerged from the shadows, jumping up onto Nick’s lap and purring loudly when the man patted its head.

“Good, you’re learnin,’” Flip said, turning back to you, rubbing your back with his perpetually warm hand. “Are you up for makin’ the ride back tonight?”

Before you could answer, Nick interjected, “It can’t be a coincidence that you’re here tonight, Marshal. I might could use your help with somethin.’”

Flip groaned audibly, glaring at Nick, waiting for him to get to the point.

“I’m dyin.’ I can feel it comin,’” Nick said evenly as though he was discussing the weather. “And I have somethin’ I want to do before I keel over.”

“You’re too much of a pain in my ass to die off,” Flip scoffed. “Have yourself a drink and forget that line of thinkin.’”

“No, I’m dyin,’ Marshal. Just like you can tell when an old horse can’t hardly get up no more and he ain’t gonna make it through the winter.” Nick held Flip’s gaze firmly, his icy blue eyes unblinking under his bushy white eyebrows. “I want you to help me with somethin.’ Consider it a last request.”

“What is it, then?” Flip grumbled, his posture slumping slightly as he relented.

“I always liked kids. I wanted a whole pack of ‘em, myself,” Nick began, before laughing bitterly to himself and gesturing around his small cabin. “But this ain’t exactly the lifestyle a lot of womenfolk want for themselves.” Sighing to himself, he continued before Flip tried to offer some empty placation. “I’ve spent my life out here down in that godforsaken mineshaft, and now I don’t know what in the hell to do with myself. I can’t take gold with me where I’m goin.’”

“Gold?” Flip huffed incredulously. “This mine’s been dry for decades. Everyone knows that.”

“Hmmm. I wonder how it is that everyone knows what they think they know.” Nick grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Pushing up from his chair with a groan, he set the black kitten down on his dinner table, letting it eat some scraps from an earlier meal, before walking past you and Flip back out of his cabin. “Follow me.”

It was nearly dark when you stepped back outside into the wintery chill, the mountains tinted purple with the evening glow. Nick led you both around to the back of his cabin to a newly constructed corral. Inside it was a small herd of eight reindeer, all of whom raised their heads to look at the strangers. They were little creatures, only standing around the height of Flip’s gunbelt, with thick coats and pronged antlers. Beside the fence was a sleigh that Nick had clearly constructed himself and painted a vibrant shade of whorehouse red.

“You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me,” Flip groaned at the sight, shaking his head. “You really have lost your goddamn mind.”

“So what if I have?” Nick laughed, clapping Flip roughly on the back and earning a glare in response. “But crazy or not, I’ve spent the last few months makin’ toys and knickknacks for the kiddos instead of bein’ down in that mine once it started to get cold here. I could use a hand gettin’ ‘em all delivered for Christmas.”

You walked to the fence, holding your hand out through the railing. A pair of the reindeer approached you cautiously, sniffing your hand before they allowed you to pet their fluffy necks.

“’C’mere, girls,” Nick said to the animals, shaking a can full of grain to call them closer for you.

“Girls?” Flip asked, cocking an eyebrow at Nick.

“That’s right. Girls. All of ‘em,” Nick said as he patted the head of a reindeer. “The stags shed their antlers in the winter. I can’t hardly have bald reindeer, now can I?”

“You should have wrangled up some caribou instead. At least they’d be full size.” Flip glared at one of the offending reindeer who looked at him curiously, ears forward, raising her nose to smell his scent on the air. “These things look more like antlered goats.”

“Caribou would hardly be authentic,” Nick replied seriously, shaking his bushy head.

“Christ, you’re really playin’ this Santa card for all it’s worth,” Flip scowled, looking at you for your position on the matter.

“He’s right, Flip,” you agreed, seeing the way Nick beamed as you spoke. “You know the mountains better than anyone and you’re the best man to have in a bind.” Flip’s expression had turned into something between a grimace and a pout at the turn his evening had taken. Playfully poking him in the ribs, you couldn’t resist teasing, “Besides, how often do you get a chance to be Santa’s Littler Helper?”

“You’re real fuckin’ funny, sugar.” Flip shook his head at you before telling Nick, “I guess I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”

“Good man,” Nick exclaimed happily, pushing you both back toward his cabin. “Now, let me feed you and the missus and we’ll head out when the moon rises. With the full moon shinin’ on the snow, it’ll be just as good as daylight.”

“What could possibly go wrong?” Flip huffed sarcastically.

*******************************************************************************************

Once the moon began to rise over the peaks of the surrounding mountains, the snowy landscape alighted in a silvery glow, easily bright enough to see for miles in every direction. Nick shuffled about in a heavy red coat hitching his recalcitrant team of reindeer up to their harnesses, tethered to the sleigh. They didn’t look broke in any sense of the word, let alone trained to pull as a team. They pawed the snow, struggled in their harnesses, and butted each other with their antlers.

Standing close by, you held both yours and Flip’s horses, watching while Flip helped Nick with his sleigh, bitching under his fogged breath as he slipped and stumbled in the snow. Your two horses eyed the team of strange animals skeptically, arching their necks, blowing and snorting indignantly at the antlered creatures.

The final item to be loaded into the sleigh was an enormous heavy canvas bag that Flip hefted into the back of the sleigh. Filled to the brim with toys and trinkets, the bag took up the entirety of the sleigh behind the driver’s bench. Flip also loaded extra lengths of rope and long leather reins into the sleigh along with provisions Nick had prepared for the long night’s journey.  

Walking back to you, Flip took the reins of both horses from you, holding your horse while you lifted yourself into the saddle. Flip swung up onto his own horse after you, catching your eye as he adjusted his seat and sighing dejectedly at the task ahead of you both.

Flip rode out ahead, leading the way for you and then the sleigh behind. The route led you first through a valley, winding between the mountains that rose on all sides. Around you, the haunting howls of wolves sounded in the distance, echoing on all sides. The two horses pranced nervously and the reindeer snorted and startled in their harnesses, trying to scatter but unable to do so while tethered together. Nick smacked the long reins down across their hindquarters, pushing the untrained animals ahead.

“Should we be worried?” you asked as another howl cut through the frigid night air.

“About them?” Flip made a point of looking around the moonlit mountains, before returning his gaze to you, winking when he caught your eye. “I think I’m bigger and meaner than a few wolves, sugar.”

Riding through the valley, you gained in elevation, traversing several switchbacks of a pass. The thin alpine air grew icier and the snow deepened with the rising altitude, making your horses step high and the reindeer huff and struggle to pull the heavy sleigh. The snow soon deepened to the level of the animals’ bellies and, being weighed down by the sleigh and the heavy man and bag inside, it threatened to trap them where they stood like quicksand.

Flip dismounted, having trouble trudging through the snow himself. Using the extra reins, he hitched his own buckskin horse to the front of the team. Hoisting himself back up into the saddle, Flip spurred his horse ahead. Struggling against the reins, his horse pushed through the snow, pulling the team and sleigh on through the roughest part of the pass. You followed behind, coming up the rear in the trail cut by the team and sleigh. Flip’s growling and grumbling paired with Nick’s laughter could be heard even above the panting and grunting of the struggling animals.

A series of narrow switchbacks led you through the mountain pass onto easier terrain with sparser trees and shallower snow as you descended toward civilization. A few outlying ranches were scattered throughout the lower elevation in the mountains. Flip continued to pull the brunt of the sleigh’s weight to ease the burden of the much smaller reindeer until the trail became easier once more.

Rounding a final cutback brought you all into view of the valley below, shining in the moonlight. Suddenly, Flip’s horse balked, sinking his haunches back in the snow, before rearing and whinnying in fright. Ahead, in the trail walking toward the team was a hulking grizzly bear, lumbering casually up the mountain. The bear stood around four-feet tall at his shoulders on all fours and was gelatinously fat, his body rippling with every heavy step, and bushy brown fur ruffling in the breeze.

Cursing his horse, Flip kept his seat when the animal reared again, struggling against his harness and the reins Flip held tight, keeping him from bolting. The bear raised its head, looking curiously at the sight before him, lifting his nose to sniff the scent of the foreign reindeer. The small team was also spooked and panicked, but unable to run in any direction, with the sleigh behind them and Flip’s horse in front.

“Nick, get your old ass up here!” Flip barked as he kicked a leg over his saddle horn and jumped down to the snowy ground. He tossed his reins to Nick when he approached, warily eyeing the grizzly.

“I’ve never seen a grizzly so big,” Nick said, taking the reins and aiming a lever action rifle at the bear, who still calmly regarded the spectacle before him, titling his giant head with curiosity.

“I have,” Flip muttered, walking ahead toward the bear. Removing his hat, he waved it at the bear as if trying to shoo away a troublesome pest. “Get outta here, big fella. Go home.”

“What the hell are you doing, Flip?!” you shouted, drawing your pistol and training it on the mass of brown fur over Flip’s shoulder.

“Don’t worry, sugar.” Flip laughed. “We go way back.”

Chuffing in the air at the sound of Flip’s voice, the grizzly bounded heavily forward to meet Flip, letting out something like a groan. Your finger was tightening on the trigger when the bear lowered his head, shoving it into Flip’s chest and bumping him backward from its strength. Flip only laughed, lifting his hand to scratch the bear roughly behind one of its ears like a giant dog. The bear groaned again, apparently a happy sound, and rubbed his head against Flip’s chest like a cat wanting to be petted.

“Bears hibernate durin’ the winter,” Flip said over his shoulder while the enormous bear knocked him backwards with every rub of his head. “Unless they’re someone’s pet and fat as hell like old Teddy here. Mr. Logan caught him as a cub and raised him. There’s nothin’ better to keep the wolves and lions away from your cattle and horses than this big bastard.”

You laughed with relief along with Nick. Of course, Flip would be friends with the fucking bear.

“Alright, Teddy,” Flip crooned, giving the bear a few final pats on his head before pointing back down the trail. “Go home. Get your fat ass outta here. Go on.”

Sighing through his nose, the bear dropped his head at being rebuffed and begrudgingly turned and ambled back down the trail toward the ranches below. Flip grinned at you when he turned to walk back to his horse. He took the opportunity to unhitch his horse from the sleigh before grabbing the reins back from Nick and swinging up into the saddle.

A rosy tint was creeping into the navy night sky when you reached the outlying ranches on the edge of town, a crisp clear Christmas morning. Whipping his reindeer into a run where the trail grew less rugged, Nick rushed past you and Flip, making your horses shy away from the red sleigh.

Nick raced ahead to each of the ranch houses outside of town, leaving parcels on their porches or doorsteps. In lieu of a nametag, each gift wrapped in simple brown paper and twine was finished with a gold nugget tied in its bow.

Following behind the sleigh, you and Flip closed in on town, greeted by a few shimmering candlelit windows in the early dawn. A final descent from the surrounding foothills was the last leg of your trek. Nick took the last slope down into town at a run, much faster than good sense would dictate.

By all appearances to any onlooker, the team of reindeer and sleigh seemed to leave the ground in a flurry of kicked up powdery snow, as they flew down the hillside into town. Santa’s booming laughter could be heard echoing through the empty streets in the otherwise still and silent morning. The sights and sounds of the spectacle Nick created was the morning salutation for many of the townsfolk who peeked their heads out of doorways or walked out into the street. Citizens watched in disbelief as Santa slowed his team of reindeer to an uneasy walk, the animals unused to other humans and the other trappings of town, and began handing out gifts to the women and children.

Flip rode next to the sleigh on one side, you on the opposite, keeping the reindeer buttressed between your horses so they didn’t spook and run away with the sleigh when Nick got out to take presents to doorsteps of the houses that still slept.

One small girl ventured out of her door to see what was causing the commotion when Nick lumbered up her steps to deposit a gift on the porch. Much to Nick’s amusement, she promptly asked Santa why he was late, before smiling brightly at the sight of the present and giving him a hearty bearhug. No doubt, she would remember meeting Santa for the rest of her life.

The next stop on the line was a run-down house with a sagging porch on which Nick left four presents. Just as Nick put the parcels down, the door burst open, the barrel of 30-30 shoved out and into Nick’s face.

“Who the hell are you?” the man holding the gun slurred aggressively.

Rushing up the porch steps, Flip’s right hand hovered over his gun when he growled at the man, “You’re still drunk from last night, McCabe. Can’t you see this is Santa?”

The drunkard’s flushed face showed his confusion, his eyebrows pinching together as he squinted to look at the large man in red with his white hair and beard.

“Well, I’ll be goddamned,” the man said in awe, his eyes widening with wonder, lowering his rifle as four urchinly children rushed out of the door excitedly.

Flip put his hand on Nick’s shoulder, directing him back toward his sleigh in the street.

“Good to see you pullin’ your weight there, Marshal,” Nick teased, patting Flip on the back in response to Flip’s glare.

You smiled at Flip when he remounted his horse, slumping in the saddle, and clearly having had enough hassle in the past day to last him the remainder of the year.

“You’re pretty good at being Santa’s Little Helper,” you told him with a smile, laughing when he fixed you with a more playful version of his scowl.

“I’ve had about enough of this cold bullshit,” he groused, gritting his teeth. “I’m ready to get home and open the only present I ever want.”

Making your way thoroughly through town, you and Flip helped Nick complete his Santa run and deliver all the presents he had planned for all the kids in the town and the surrounding ranches. Flip’s only consolation was that the route was slowly winding back in the general direction of his own cabin.

Finally, Nick reined his sleigh to a stop after visiting the last ranch house. It was now late enough in the morning that the woman of the house offered to serve you all a hot meal. Nick was all too eager to accept, and although Flip’s stomach growled from his ravenous hunger, he wanted nothing more than to get home with you.

In an act of mercy, Nick decided to release Flip from his duty before accepting the woman’s offer of breakfast. Nick waved for Flip to step down off his horse under the guise of needing help with the harness of a reindeer, instead speaking to Flip with a grave seriousness when he approached.

“When I do kick the bucket, I expect you to take care of my livestock, reindeer included, and my kitten,” Nick told Flip, reaching to shake his hand and not releasing his hold until Flip nodded his very reluctant consent.

You could see how Flip tried his best not to grimace at the thought of inheriting a team of eight unruly reindeer, a pair of mules that were probably more stubborn than he was, and a kitten that you would insist stayed inside the cabin with you. You smiled at him when he noticed your gaze, and he knew all too well exactly what you were thinking.

At the very bottom of Nick’s now empty bag was a smaller leather satchel. Nick retrieved it, shoving it into Flip’s hands. The bag was surprisingly heavy, its contents clinking together inside like stones.

“You deserve a bag of coal, Marshal, grouchy bastard that you are,” Nick told Flip with a friendly smile by way of thanking him. “But this is the best I could do.” Nick then turned his attention to you, taking your hand and raising it to his lips like a gentleman. “Keep this sonofabitch in line, and don’t let him give you any hell neither.”

*******************************************************************************************

Finally back home inside your cabin with Flip, after you had both bathed and eaten, you stood by the fireplace. Wearing only one of Flip’s shirts, you enjoyed the heat on your tired body. The bag of coal Nick had given Flip had been deposited in your bedroom before your bath, now laying forgotten on your floor. Flip walked behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and handing you a tin mug filled with hot tea and spiked with whiskey and cinnamon.

“Do you want to get some shuteye, sugar?” Flip asked next to your ear, his rich voice rumbling low. “Or can I unwrap my present first?”

“Are you going to make it worth my while?” you teased. Turning in his arms you reached for his lapel, pulling him down to meet your lips.

“I always do.” He smirked against your lips. His searing kiss burned hotter than the whiskey in your cup when your mouth parted, allowing his hot tongue to lick into you. Your hand at his lapel rose to grab the back of his neck, pulling him harder against you, clawing at his skin and twisting into his dense hair.

Flip’s hand trailed up under the hem of your shirt, his coarse broad palm smoothing against the skin of your back, pressing your body closer to his, as he kissed you with all the passion he had. Reaching to unbutton his own shirt that you wore, he kissed you deeply as he pushed the fabric away from your shoulders, letting it fall to the floor and revealing your bare body to him. His hand cupped your breast, gripping and squeezing you, as his calloused palm rubbed against your pert nipple. The rough texture of his palm contrasting with the softness of his touch had you sighing against his lips, your back arching in pleasure, pushing your tits out further for him.

Using his hand on your breast and his other hand at your hip, he pushed you back, directing you backward toward his bedroom without taking his masterful lips away from yours. You brought your hands to the buttons of his shirt, undoing them as you let him lead you to his bed. Your hands then moved to the expansive plane of his dense chest, loving the way his muscle felt beneath your touch.

Inside the bedroom, Flip broke your kiss, his eyes finding yours in the dim light, desire and affection shining brightly in their amber depths. He peeled his shirt off, throwing it aside, before reaching to your skin, reverently following your curves with his touch, caressing you gently. His hands skimmed your tits and sides, before moving down to your ass.

You reached to his pants, yanking his belt free and dipping your hand inside. His cock was already hard, hot, and throbbing under your touch. A groan rumbled low through his chest when you wrapped your hand as far around him as possible, making him buck into your grip.  Flip’s head dropped to kiss at your neck. His mouth was open now, licking and nipping at your skin, as you gave his cock a few solid pumps. You loved the feel of him, from his thick velvety tip down the rigid length that pulsed in your hand.

Shoving his pants the rest of the way down his thickly muscled thighs, his heavy cock arched upward proudly when it swung free. Flip pushed you softly back onto the bed. You laughed as you fell backward, smiling up at him. He stood beside the bed, admiring you for a moment, beaming with love for you. The mattress dipped with his weight when he crawled over you, kissing his way up your body.

Returning his lips to yours, he kissed you deeply, as he nudged his cock into you, stretching you deliciously when he sank in inch by girthy inch. “Your little pussy always feels so fuckin’ good, sugar. So wet. So fuckin’ tight on my cock,” Flip groaned when his cock filled you completely, his hips flush against you.

When he started rocking into you, slowly at first before thrusting more firmly, you couldn’t help but dig your nails into the meat of his back, wordlessly telling him how much you wanted more. Raising your legs higher up his waist, allowing him to slide in even deeper, you met his thrusts with your own motions. Flip’s angle was perfect, as always, each drag of his cock sending a current of pleasure coursing through you.

Growling hungrily at the feel of you, Flip increased his pace, slamming his hips against you. Sounds of skin slapping against skin and of your shared panted breaths soon filled the room. You could only moan in response to the sensations he gave you. Your hands moved to twist into his thick hair, tugging harshly, as your pleasure quickly built.

Flip felt your pussy tighten around his cock, wanting more of him, and your thighs squeezing him harder, your hands gripping him desperately. He pumped into you as hard as he could, feeling your pussy flutter and clench in response.

Moaning Flip’s name in ecstasy, you came hard around his cock, pleasure shooting through you in time with his hard thrusts. Flip groaned through gritted teeth, his eyebrows pinched together, straining to fuck you while your pussy pulsed around him.

Once your body went limp beneath him, he allowed his rhythm to falter, sloppily fucking you until his own orgasm crested. Slamming his cock into you up to the hilt, he throbbed inside of you, filling you up with his heat. You shivered at the feeling of his warmth spreading through you and his heavy weight relaxing down on top of you.

With his cock still pulsing inside you, Flip returned his lips to yours. His kisses were less skillful now, his lips pulled into a smile instead of kissing you properly. Looping your arms tight around his neck, you pulled him down harder against you, making your kiss even worse, as your smiles crashed together.

Wrapping his arms around you, Flip rolled onto his back, pulling you with him and trapping you inside his arms against his massive chest. Gazing down at him, you fondly brushed his wild hair back from his forehead.

“You’re the best fuckin’ present I could ever ask for,” Flip purred, his chest rumbling beneath you. He looked at you lovingly as both your breaths evened and the sweat on your bodies began to cool.

“Let’s see how much coal Nick gave you,” you told him after a few minutes, smiling as you traced the aquiline line of his nose with your fingertip.

Groaning reluctantly at having to move out from underneath you, Flip gently pushed you off his body and rolled to his side to grab the bag off the floor. Tipping it upside down, he shook its contents out onto your bedroom floor. A collection of heavy rocks, coated in dirt and mud, rolled out of the bag in a pile, each sized somewhere between a walnut and an apple.

“That sorry bastard,” Flip laughed at the idea of Nick taking the time to put together a bag of coal for him.

“Flip, those aren’t lumps of coal,” you said quietly, in wonderment of the sight of the shimmering glint of gold that peeked out from a few places under the mud. “Those are gold nuggets.”

Flip’s eyebrows knotted together as he looked more closely, seeing that you were right. He reached to the largest nugget, large enough to fill his enormous hand entirely, and rubbed his thumb across its rough muddy surface. Unmistakable shining gold was revealed under the mud, a life’s fortune worth now piled on your bedroom floor.

“I’ll be goddamned,” Flip laughed, shaking his head. “I guess old Nick’s mine wasn’t a bust after all.”

“So, are you going to tell me I was right for telling you to help Nick?” you teased, smiling broadly at him.

“All I have to say is Merry Christmas, sugar,” Flip growled, rolling over you again and kissing you with renewed vigor.

*******************************************************************************************

© safarigirlsp 2021

Tagging some friends on the Naughty List @babbushka @in-silks-and-flesh-and-leather @mrs-gucci @mrs-zimmerman @iamburdened @gabesprincess @rynwritesstuff @candycanes19 @caillea @queeniebee @mythrielofsolitude @ghoulian13 @icarusinthesea @darkhairedmenrule @reyloaddict55 @fizzywoohoo @heartlight-starlight @richbrittstein @clydesfavoritegirl @emi11ie @bensolodyad @danidanisara @thepalaceofmelanie @celiholland @lumberjack00fantasies

[takenyoomies]

Takeomi's "Day Off"

Title - Takeomi's "Day Off"

Rated - T

Summary - When Senju said it was his "day off", this was not what Akashi Takeomi had in mind.

Tags - Food, Movies, Wakasa Lock-picking, Swearing, Benkei Slander, Mildly OOC

Characters - Takeomi, Wakasa, Benkei, Senju, Draken(mentioned), Shinichiro(mentioned), Terano South(mentioned)

TWs - mentions of character death

Word Count - 2977

Read on AO3

The evening forecast calls for-

“Rain.”

Thunderstorms until the late evening, and it will then clear up around nine o’clock. Back to you for the local news to talk about how you can protect yourself from-

Click.

Takeomi sighed as he took another drag off of his cigarette, neatly ashing it in a black ceramic ashtray he’d found long ago in the belongings of none other than Shinichiro Sano. With his gaze affixed to the ever infinite tile ceiling, one thing crossed his mind. What was he going to do on his day away from the rest of the members of Brahman?

It wasn’t often that the scar-faced man had a rare “day off,” as Senju called them. He chuckled at the idea as he hadn’t been employed since he lost his ambitions, though all things considered, helping manage the gang members did feel like a full-time job. There was the somewhat apathetic Wakasa, who seemingly followed Senju to the ends of the earth. However, enjoyed the occasional prank. Benkei was pretty hot-headed in their quarrels. However, outside of them, he seemed to enjoy the more minor things...only to also become hot-headed about those too. Takeomi rubbed the bridge of his nose as he remembered the time they went fishing only for Benkei to pick a fight with his fishing pole for not catching him any fish. There also was Senju, his sister, who was calm for the most part until she wasn’t, and it became a game of World War between the five of them as they tried to figure out who stole the last manju from the plate in the middle of the table. And lastly, there was of course the new member of the gang, Draken, who hid mainly in the shadows and made a relatively decent hot curry.

The scar-faced man stood from the well-loved recliner, stretching his back as he made his way to the kitchen to grab a beer, “Wonder what they’re up to today…” He murmured as he opened the fridge, plucking a silver can from its place on the shelf. He turned his body to walk back towards the living room only to hear the doorbell ring. He froze in place, blinking. No one other than four people knew he lived here, and all four of those people knew it was his day off.

The bell rang again.

He pursed his lips, thinking that perhaps they would go away.

“He has to be home, and he never goes anywhere.” A deep voice stated, almost in annoyance.

“True...I don’t see the point in him going anywhere, to be honest, and it’s raining.” A tired voice replied, almost sounding bored with the situation.

Takeomi huffed, “Oh, so they think I’m a hermit?” He thought to himself, crossing his arms with a smirk.

“Well...we could always use...that.” The last voice said, the doorbell ringing one more time.

“Oh! I like that idea.” The deep voice spoke excitedly.

Takeomi blinked, wondering what that meant, only to hear the telltale sound of scratching at his door. He hurriedly rushed over, unlocking the door as he quickly realized what that was.

“How many times have I told you, if I’m not answering the door, don’t get Waka to pick the lock!” He yelled in exasperation as he whipped open the door. Benkei collapsed into the genkan while Senju and Wakasa remained kneeling outside, both looking up at the semi-tired-looking man holding a beer, a cigarette between his lips.

“Oh. Hi Takeomi.” Wakasa finally spoke with a wave, his bored face showing how unaffected he was by the man in front of him.

Benkei groaned as he rose from his position on the floor, “If you would’ve answered the door, maybe we wouldn’t have had to use Waka.” He rubbed his head, “And would it kill you to open the door slower?”

“You act as though I’m some item for you to use when you get locked out…” The two-toned-haired man retorted, standing from his crouched position, patting his pants as he put away the lock-picking kit back into his bag.

The buff man clicked his tongue, “As if that’s the biggest fucking issue here.”

Takeomi sighed, looking at the group in front of him, “What are you three even doing here?” He questioned, noticing the plastic bags, “It’s my day off.”

“Well…” Senju started, standing from her position on the ground as well, “We were going to meet up at the park, but it’s raining.”

“Yeah, I wonder who did that.” Benkei huffed sarcastically, crossing his arms.

“You can’t blame me for the rain every time.” Takeomi pointed out, taking a drag off of his cigarette.

“I can, and I fucking will.”

“Regardless of if Takeomi made it rain,” Senju cut in, looking over at the several plastic bags on the concrete behind them, “Your apartment was the closest.”

Takeomi exhaled, the smoke wrapping around him like the safety he needed in that moment as he paused to think. Yes, he could refuse them entry. Unfortunately, though, that would likely just cause them to force their way in like usual. He sighed in defeat, “Alright, get in.”

Senju smiled, “Yay!” The smallest cheered, rushing into the apartment past Takeomi and Benkei.

“Wait, shit, she’s gonna get the chair!” Bekei roared in sudden realization, attempting to blow past the other man as well, only to be stopped by an arm.

“Pick up the bags and then go fight over the chair. Don’t make Waka carry everything.” Takeomi warned, only to receive a glare in return.

“You do it if you’re so concerned.” He snapped, sliding under the arm that was blocking his path inside and rushing inside, “Hey Senju, you got it last time!”

Takeomi shook his head, “Never changes.” He looked over at the plastic bags that Wakasa was beginning to gather up, “It’s always us, huh?”

“Been that way since…” Wakasa trailed off before shrugging a bit, the lollipop in his mouth shifting, “Take these, and I’ll carry the rest.”

The older man knew what he meant by that sentence and was somewhat thankful he didn’t finish it. Sometimes he wondered if that ghost would ever stop haunting the three of them. He shook the thought as he grabbed onto the two plastic bags, peering into them and noticing the sheer amount of food.

“Just...how much did all of you buy?” He questioned, the cigarette on his lips nearly dropping in astonishment.

A hum of amusement came from Wakasa’s throat, “Senju kept putting things in the basket, and Benkei...Well, you know him.”

“And you?” Takeomi questioned, only to see the two-toned-haired man pull out a bag of lollipops. The scar-faced man's lips tilted into a smile, “How predictable.”

“Please,” Wakasa began as they walked inside, Takeomi could already hear the sounds of an argument, “My simple tastes are far superior to Benkei’s ridiculous tastes in cola-flavored garbage.”

Takeomi snorted, “I didn’t know you had a candy complex.”

Wakasa rolled his eyes, “Is that even real?”

“Beats me.” Takeomi chuckled as they made their way into the living room to see a smug-looking Senju placed in the comfortable recliner and an angry Benkei gesturing.

Benkei groaned, “Like I said, you got it last time so, get up!”

Senju smiled sweetly as she settled herself into the recliner, “No, I’m comfortable.”

You could see a vein pop on the buff man’s forehead, “Oh my god, you’re so!” He attempted to piece together before growling once more.

Senju snickered, “Use your words Benkei.”

“Senju, don’t be mean to the wildlife.” Wakasa sighed, placing the bags on the coffee table.

“I am not an animal!” Benkei yelled in offense.

“Hm. Debatable.” Wakasa shrugged as he sat down on one of the pillows.

Takeomi shook his head, placing the other plastic bags onto the table, opening his beer, taking a sip, and wrinkling his nose. Warm. However, this seemed to get the attention of Benkei.

“Hey, Takeomi, if you’re having a beer, share one with the rest of us.” The bearded man complained, strolling over to him.

“Bring your own.” He breathed, waving his spare hand at him, sitting down at the table beside Wakasa, “You just were at the store.”

“If I remember correctly, you said you were going to bum one off of Takeomi.” Wakasa’s bored voice cut in, exposing the other’s plans as he opened a bag of hard candy.

“I-I did not.” Benkei huffed, crossing his arms and looking to the side.

“I clearly recall you stating, Waka, I’m gonna get a beer from Takeomi, so I don’t have to buy a six-pack! I’m so smart, haha or something of that effect.” Wakasa mimicked the burly man set before himself, popping the lollipop out of his mouth and pointing at him with it.

Takeomi hummed, “Is that right?”

“No way, I would never say that!” Benkei denied, holding his hands up in refusal.

“Senju can confirm it, probably.” Wakasa sighed, popping the sweet back in his mouth.

“Ain’t no way she heard sh-”

“I was in the other aisle. Even I heard you say it, Benkei.” Senju confirmed.

“Okay, maybe I did say that,” Benkei muttered, looking to the side, “But come on, beer is expensive!”

“And bumming it off of me makes that okay?” Takeomi asked incredulously, shaking his head.

“Yes.” Benkei grinned, only to receive a look of disapproval from the man.

Takeomi sighed, “I’d say you’re unbelievable, though this is far too in character for you.”

Benkei snorted in amusement, “The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Eyebrow twitching, the scar-faced man sighed once more, "If you could stop swearing in front of my sister, that'd be wonderful."

Benkei huffed, "I don't think she minds it."

"Well I-"

Senju waved an arm, interrupting the conversation, “Hey, can you pass me the sour gummy worms?” She asked, as if to ignore the on-going conversation about herself.

Wakasa sighed and looked over to Takeomi, “You’re closer.”

Takeomi stared daggers at Benkei, who shrugged with a lopsided grin. He turned towards Wakasa, “Fine, fine.” Takeomi groaned, putting his cigarette out into the ashtray, “Which bag are they in?”

Wakasa shrugged, opening a can of juice, “Probably the one with the candy.”

Takeomi pulled one of the bags forward, fishing around for the bag of sour candy. “Is this the right bag?” He questioned as he fumbled through the several different types of snacks.

“Probably.” Wakasa’s bored eyes peering over at the man, “Actually, they might be in the other other candy bag.”

Takeomi stopped his search to look up at the two-toned-haired man, “You mean to tell me you have two entire bags of candy?”

The accused party sighed, “Listen, blame Senju for that one.”

“Nuh-uh Waka, you pitched in to at least half the damage!” The light-haired girl chimed in, crossing her arms with a knowing look.

Benkei snorted as he sat down at the table, “And by half, that’d be one bag each.”

“Thank you. I can do basic math,” Wakasa replied, rolling his eyes and pulling the other bag forward. His fingers instantly pulling out the bag of sour gummy worms, much to Takeomi’s surprise.

“How did you…” Takeomi started, only to have the bag of gummy worms flung into his chest, “...Nevermind.” He breathed, standing from his place at the table and walking over to the snowy-haired girl, “Here.”

Senju grinned, “Thanks.” She spoke happily as she grabbed the package of sweets out of his hands, biting open the top with her teeth.

Takeomi sighed attempting to grab the package back from her, “Hey, you’re gonna ruin your teeth like that.”

Wrinkling her nose, Senju looked up at Takeomi, “You’re not the boss of me.” She spoke sarcastically with a slight smile, shoving a gummy worm into her awaiting mouth.

The dark-haired man raised a brow, “...And I’m assuming you forgot that sour food is sour, again.”

Senju’s face had contorted, her nose wrinkling as her lips puckered, “Shut up…” She whimpered, shoving another gummy worm into her mouth.

"You're how old?" Takeomi questioned with an amused smile, as Senju pouted.

"Worst brother ever." She huffed.

Benkei tilted his head over only to burst into laughter, “Happens every time, man.”

“You do the same when you eat spicy food.” Wakasa mentioned as he took a sip from his drink, “Remember the time we ate Draken’s hot curry? You were crying like a baby.”

Takeomi snorted as he remembered the scene, Draken had said he would make them curry since they were eating out too much, and Benkei had been the most excited about it. But, of course, this only seemed to fire up the braid-haired man more when it came to making the curry, so when it came down to them eating, he had even given Benkei an extra serving.

“Do you remember when he took the first bite?” Takeomi pondered as he walked back over to the table, Benkei groaning and placing his head on the table in embarrassment.

“Man, quit it, do you have to?” Benkei pleaded, peeking an eye up towards the man.

“Do you mean the it burns part or take me to the hospital one?” Wakasa questioned with slight amusement.

The buff man grumbled, “I’m going home. This is bullshit.”

“So you can bark, but you can’t take a bite?” Takeomi teased, grabbing his beer and taking another swig, once again scrunching his nose, “This is disgusting.”

“Then why are you still drinking it…?” Wakasa sighed in exasperation.

“Because wasting beer is a cardinal sin.” Takeomi clarified.

Benkei sat up quickly, pointing at both Takeomi and Wakasa, “You know what else a cardinal sin is? Dunking on your homies.”

The two-toned-haired man blinked, before shaking his head and clasping his hands together, and looking directly into Benkei’s eyes, “So is having an IQ of below 70, but we’re still accepting of you, Benkei.” He spoke carefully before downing the rest of his drink, “Alright, are we watching a movie?”

Benkei sat at the table, mouth agape, unsure of what to say or do, all while Takeomi and Senju snickered uncontrollably in the background.

“Sure, we can do that.” Takeomi finally spoke through his laughs, lighting a cigarette, “Though we’re not watching Jurassic Park again and making Terano South references.”

“Aw, come on!” Senju pouted.

“We could always watch Pulp Fiction?” Wakasa offered with a half-hearted shrug.

Takeomi raised a knowing brow, “You just want to say the does he look like a bitch part again, Waka.”

He sighed, “Guilty.”

“What about-” Benkei began.

“No.” Takeomi interrupted.

The burly man huffed and crossed his arms, “But I didn’t even say shit!”

“We are not watching Austin Powers.” The man with the cigarette proclaimed, shaking his head.

“...Fine.”

“What about Goodfellas?” Senju pointed out, swinging her legs from the recliner, “That’s always a favorite.”

Benkei groaned, “We’ve watched that like 20 times, though.”

Takeomi hummed, “What’s 21, though…”

“Waka can probably quote all the lines in that one, too, then.” Benkei thought out loud.

“Did you hear him last time?” Senju asked while tilting her head to the side, “He even did the voices.”

“He wasn’t here last time we watched, remember?” Takeomi pointed out, taking a hit off of his cigarette and exhaling.

“Oh, right!” Senju realized.

“Wait, you mean to tell me I missed Waka doin’ Goodfellas impressions?!” Benkei asked, looking around at the group, “Why did no one tell me!”

“You miss a lot of things when you screw around doing other things.” Wakasa pointed out as he stood, “Goodfellas it is.” He walked over to the bookcase and grabbed a VHS case for the movie.

“The real question is...did we rewind it when we watched it last time,” Senju commented as Wakasa walked over to the television set and shoved it into the VHS player.

“I don’t see why we wouldn’t ha-” It was not rewound, “Goddamn it.” Takeomi huffed.

“Short intermission, I guess.” Wakasa breathed as he hit the rewind button, walking back to the table and plopping down.

The smoking man chuckled, “You know, I didn’t expect to spend my day off like this?”

“Oh?” Wakasa asked, raising a brow.

Benkei snorted, “What, did you expect to sleep all day and drink beer?”

Takeomi rolled his eyes, “No, though that sounds peaceful compared to the mess all of you seem to bring.” He huffed, inhaling the last of the cigarette and putting it out into the ashtray. The VCR clicked, signifying the tape was done rewinding. “I got it,” Takeomi stated as he stood from his seat at the table, walking towards the TV set.

“I guess it is your day off…” Senju hummed, her legs once again moving back and forth as she spoke, “But, we missed you.”

Benkei’s eye’s widened, “Shhh!! You weren’t supposed to tell him!” As he attempted to silence the small leader.

The scar-faced man’s hand stopped as it reached forward. He blinked. They missed him. He felt his heart swell in his chest as a smile spread its way onto his face.

“Hey, Takeomi...” Wakasa questioned boredly after a moment, “Tell me they didn’t take you out with just that?”

“I’m fine.” He responded, pressing play on the VCR and turning to walk towards the light switch. While the smile on his face had disappeared, the warm and fuzzy feelings had not as he switched off the lights. Making his way back to the table, he received an all-knowing look from Wakasa as he sat down.

As the previews for the movie were nearing their end, Takeomi leaned forwards towards Wakasa, attempting not to alert the other two members of the room.

“So, even you missed me?” He questioned quietly as the beginning scene started, the two-toned-haired man not entirely paying attention.

“Yeah, yeah…” the two-toned-haired man dismissed, the piece of candy in his mouth shifting against his teeth.

“Hm.” Takeomi hummed, leaning back on his elbows and looking up at the tiled ceiling once more. He could vaguely hear the storm outside over the sound of Wakasa quoting the movie, Benkei’s obnoxious wheezes of laughter, and Senju’s tiny kicks against his favorite recliner that he always gave up to one of them instead to sit on the floor himself. A gentle smile once again made its way back onto his face.

Maybe it should rain more often.

[ddarker-dreams]

Wouldn’t It Be Nice. Yan Jotaro x Reader [COMM]

warnings: isolation mentions, very brief and minor injury ment, just general yandere stuff word count: 2.1k

“We’re here.” 

You let out a low hum of acknowledgement at Jotaro’s statement, lifting your head from its previous position of resting against the car window. It’s bright and early in the morning, the sun just starting to peak up over the clouds, bathing the world in a soft glow of warm colors. Jotaro turns the keys, the engine’s purring dying down into a final sputter. Throughout the drive from the hotel you’re staying in, you’ve been in and out of sleep, not used to being up bright and early. Normally your repetitive days blend together like watercolors, faint and indescribable from each other. This serves to be a new palette, an opportunity to see the world with your own eyes. 

Ignoring the dull ache from your legs, you step onto solid ground and stretch. Jotaro’s preoccupied with opening the car trunk, gathering his equipment and the few items you wanted to bring along. An umbrella, beach chair, towel, and some books to read. You fiddle with hands, shifting your weight as silence encompasses you both. He doesn’t so much as struggle with all the heavy items in hand, but the part of you that feels polite feels inclined to offer assistance. 

“Do you, uh, need any help with that…?” You inquire, taking a step forward and preparing to reach out should he agree. Aquamarine eyes flicker towards your clumsy proposal, searching for something unknown and coming up short. As you expect, he turns you down with a decisive shake of the head. It’s impossible to quell the curiosity of knowing what flashes through his mind, his body language hardly ever giving hints to his intentions, aside from taut muscles and grimaces.

“I’ve got it.” 

His tone isn’t meant to sound harsh, it’s just how his voice naturally sounds. You still can’t control the natural reflex of shrinking away at his rebuttal, an uncomfortable silence drowning over you both. He pauses for a brief moment, staring you down, parting his lips before closing them. Time feels like it’s at a stand still, until his attention returns to the awaiting beach. Neither of you make any further attempts at conversation, you trailing a foot behind him as he walks onto the sand. The tension from before melts from your person at the sight of soothing ocean waves, the ground underneath you growing softer, nostalgia coming in full force.

He sets up your area before getting to work on his own tasks, steadying the umbrella in the sand and unfolding the beach chair. You mutter a quiet thank you as he places the finishing touches down, a cooler that had water and sandwiches for if you needed them. The details of this trip are still largely muddled, Jotaro never has been one to over indulge his business. All you managed to squeeze out of him is that he’s taking samples, something about plankton and checking on the local ecosystem. The jargon went over your head. What matters most is that, after being on your best behavior, you’ve earned a trip outside of your normally reclusive lifestyle. Anything is better than having to stare at the same four walls everyday, trying to reminisce on what your life was like before you met Jotaro Kujo.

“I won’t be too long.” Jotaro calls over to you, walking towards the receding waves and setting off to work. You nod your head, settling back into your seat. The beach you’ve arrived at has no other signs of life, aside from seagulls calling to one another and the occasional crab you spot. Human beings are out of the question, Jotaro likely having chosen this spot for the lack of them. He can’t always keep an eye on you, no matter how much he wants to. Having him stuck to your hip like glue has been suffocating, and you’re grateful for the break. 

Staying within the confines of the shade the umbrella brings, your mind drifts into a land of daydreams. The world around you fades away, replaced with thoughts of better times. Where you didn’t have to constantly be on guard, around a man who claimed to care for you, despite rarely showcasing it. Your quality of life improved the slightest bit when you stopped acting combative towards him, taking a more passive approach to get through the days. Jotaro didn’t change his conduct around you much, aside from a few offerings to travel alongside him if his job required going to a secluded area. These opportunities are few and far between, and you always jump at the chance to see the world you were stolen from again. 

Preoccupied with your thoughts, you’re unaware of a presence lingering over you, until something wet and slippery drops onto your leg. A startled gasp leaves your lips at the unexpected sensation, your body jolting up to identify the source of the feeling. Eyebrows furrowing together, you spot Jotaro wading in the ocean, bending over and observing different objects. So where did this come from…? Squinting, you continue searching around, before spotting Star Platinum staring at you expectantly. 

Oh. So that��s what’s going on here.

Now having a better understanding of the situation, you realize the item on your thighs is a bunch of seaweed. Cold droplets of water fall onto your skin, causing a shiver to course throughout your body. He hovers above you, eyes almost doe-like as he excitedly searches for a positive response to his gift. Lazily rubbing away the sleepiness that threatens to consume you, you pluck the seaweed up to inspect it closer. You’re not sure what led the Stand to giving you this bizarre gift, but decide to thank him for the effort regardless. He’s never given a reason to earn your ire, a friendlier companion than his own User.

“Thank you,” you glance from his gift and then back to him, placing the seaweed by your side for safekeeping. “So, this is for me?” 

He nods his head, offering a soft “ora!” in excited confirmation. Star Platinum doesn’t make any movements to disappear, and you can only assume Jotaro has no idea his Stand is wandering about on its own merit. The first -- and likely last -- time that you surprised Jotaro was when he realized you could see his Stand, having a Stand of your own. Ever since then, he’s made it a point not to allow Star Platinum around you, for whatever reasons. There’s no way to confirm the gnawing suspicion that it’s because he’s embarrassed by how enthusiastic the Stand is in your presence, though it’s the theory you go with.

You realize in the time spent searching for a plausible explanation, Star Platinum had been gathering more knick knacks. Settled in his muscular, phantom arms, are various objects that litter the beach. Seashells, sea glass, and a few colorful rocks. The one item that sticks out to you the most, is a very peeved looking hermit crab, its legs flailing in the air. 

“Star, you have to put that little guy down. I think he’s wondering why he’s floating…” You sit up, pointing at the huffy hermit crab. The Stand blinks, considering your proposal, then concedes with your wishes. If only Jotaro were this agreeable, your life might be a bit better. With surprising care, he places the crab back onto the sand, then looks back to you. Is he hoping to be praised for following through with your request? Tilting your head to the side, he mimics the movement. 

“What else did you find?” While you ask this, you cross your legs together, waving for the Stand to come closer. He does so without hesitation, dumping the treasures in front of you. You search through the combination of items, fixating on a pretty, amethyst sea glass. It feels coarse in your hands. You inspect it, a rougher side of it managing to nick your finger in the process. Dropping the item at the unexpected jolt of pain, a small curse leaves your lips. Star Platinum floats to your hand, frantically taking hold of your hand. 

“It’s all good,” you reassure him with a sheepish smile. “Just a small cut. It won’t do too much damage.” 

Star Platinum doesn’t appear convinced, fawning over your effected finger with great displeasure. This serves as further reinforcement that he’s Jotaro’s soul manifest, as they both worry over you the same amount. Star Platinum doesn’t look to be convinced by you. Larger, ghost-like hands envelope your own. It’s strange how a Stand so powerful is capable of showing a softer side, only for your eyes. You can’t help the fluttering of your heart at its potent concern, not used to being fussed over having physical touch accompanying it. Jotaro will chastise you should you ever do something to displease him, without laying a hand on you. Star Platinum is different in that regard, taking every opportunity he has to touch you.

“Here, how about this,” you grab into your bag, procuring a book that Jotaro bought at your behest. “I can still hold it, see? It’s not a big deal at all.” 

Not wanting the Stand’s guilt to transfer over to the User, your mind searches for a way to mend the situation. This time without Jotaro breathing down your neck is to be relished, you won’t let it end earlier than it needs to. Opening back up to the page you left off on, you motion for Star Platinum to look over your shoulder.

“Do you want me to read for you?” You ask, taken aback by how swiftly he nods his head in confirmation. This wholehearted approach to life is so unlike Jotaro, you sometimes wonder how this can be his Stand. It’s in total contrast to the man’s stoic, seemingly dispassionate way of going throughout life. Maybe you’ll ask if you can interact with Star Platinum more often, with how eager he is to please you, it can be a bit addicting. Your own Stand is stirring within, though you don’t want to let it out in fear of how it may be interpreted. Revealing your Stand is often associated with trying to use it, and knowing Jotaro, would be taken as a sign of rebellion. Maintaining the delicate balance that consists of your turbulent relationship with Jotaro takes priority. 

“Well, this story is about a girl who has a ghost, and lives in a town full of them. Unlike Stands though, her ghost is haunting her, and tells her people’s thoughts…” 

Jotaro secures the final amount of samples required for testing, having just finished the checklist he was assigned. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he sets back to shore, thinking about the plans for the rest of the day. You’re probably going to be hungry by the time he gets back. Maybe a visit to a restaurant wouldn’t be so bad…? It’s been over half a year since you’ve made a fuss over your situation, and he hopes it stays that way. Jotaro is uncertain of what to do when you’re crying, overwhelmed by the tidal wave of emotions that came with your initial resistance. He decides that going around that many people is too much of a risk, you’ll both get room service when you’re back at the hotel.

He doesn’t notice anything out of the ordinary at first. That is, until he spots his own Stand hovering right by your side, bewitched by your every word. Jotaro clicks his tongue, calling Star Platinum back, pushing down his hat to hide the flush of his cheeks. When did his Stand come out, and how did he not notice? Internally, he prays that Star didn’t do anything unsightly in front of you. At his appearance by your side, you stop reading aloud your book, realizing that Jotaro must be the reason Star Platinum disappeared. 

Frowning, you close the book. “He wasn’t doing anything wrong.” 

“I finished up here,” he doesn’t want to talk about the flustering events from before, already bringing the umbrella down without asking if you’re ready to leave. “We can go get breakfast.” 

At the mention of a solid meal, you shoot up, thinking of what you’re going to order. Jotaro’s grateful for how well he knows you, and how adept he’s grown at redirecting you. It’s a most useful skill, not that you ever seem interested in teasing him. Without thinking, he hands you the container that holds his samples, hoping it’ll serve to keep your attention. 

It works like a charm, you asking about the nature of the water samples on the walk back to the car. 

[mydrug-is-dragonage]

Veda Adaar, Life after Bull

Victory. Triumph. Glory. Pride. What we usually feel when we win a battle. The quiet grief of cutting down lives, regardless of how worthy they are of death, but the warm joy, knowing we saved someone or something or everyone or everything from a grand or small evil.

Victory.  We stood on the balcony, crowded together, together again for the first time in years. Thom and Sera, Divine Victoria’s watchful eyes, Cassandra and Varric’s constant disdainful flirting, Cole and Maryden’s quiet affection, Dorian and Vivienne both wine drunk trading insults, the quiet acknowledgement of a friendship that grew against both of their wills. Josephine and Cullen arguing, treating the terrace like battlements, more performative as they both know the end is closer than the beginning. Solas, our own personal god, long-gone into the eluvian. We’re all here, we’re all together. All of us, but Bull.

Triumph. The weeks have passed, a quick and effective rebuke from the Arishok, King Alistair and Empress Celene accept it quietly, no time for war with another battle floating above us in the air. Back at Skyhold, a skeleton crew, these days just Harding and me spend our time in the battle room, staring at maps; Leliana’s other protégés are always off on missions. Sera pops by every now and then to see Dagna with bees and trinkets and little things to remind me that she’s never really gone. The best day, or the worst depending on the audience, Sera and Dagna came up to my room, giggling, presented me with a crossbow for where my arm ought to be. “Widdle’s a wizard, yeah! You’ll be on rooftops sticking it to people too big for their breeches in no time!” I thanked them, and sent them away. This is love, at least for Sera. Her love is violence and showy maneuvers, dancing with both hands and feet shaking about.

Glory. Josephine writes me letters, telling me to eat, to ask Cullen to write back. After a few months, she finally pens, “I know I am no longer your formal ambassador, but as your informal friend I find it painful to admit what has been sung in the inns and halls. Bards have taken your loss and turned it into song. Unlike what Maryden had composed, these are unfortunately mocking in nature. People have taken the final act and written it as the whole narrative, my lady. A play premiered in Val Royeux putting you at the center of the conflict, as the one who allowed it to happen. If you desire, I can put an end to this. Divine Victoria recommended assassins, but I’ve temporarily dispelled her more primal desires. Likewise, Mr. Arainai also reached out, grateful for the assistance you had given him evading the Crows. I similarly told him no. Above all, regardless of what action we take, I want you to know I am sorry. You’ve lost much, suffered more than so many of us. I’m sorry, Veda. I love you.”  It wasn’t unexpected, bards sing, playwrights write. They tell the tales people want to hear. Immortalizing betrayal has always turned them into legends.

Pride. A cold morning, one with little to be done, Charter and Rector off in Nevarra, the crows neither coming or going, Lace came into my room, “Sorry to bother you, V, we’ve got a vistor.”

“Avoidable?” I ask.

“What an impossibly rude question, darling.” I looked up from my desk and saw her horns pointing from the stairway.

“Oh, Vivienne, I wasn’t expecting you,” I said. I don’t stop the smile on my face. For all our differences, we’d become like sisters. On her best days, she’d fawn over me like a mother.

“That’s Grand Enchanter now, My Lady Inquisitor.”

“I’ll leave you to it,” Lace said, excusing herself. I waited to hear the door close, then the other. Vivienne stood, graceful and stoic as ever. A few more moments of silence, then she broke into a smile. She took off her hat, placed it on the sofa, and walked towards me, arms splayed.

“Oh, my dear, how I’ve missed you!” I stood up, robes draping and hiding me.

I leaned into her hug, resting my head on hers. “Grand Enchanter, really Viv?”

“One must keep appearances, darling. Besides, imagine if Bull heard you call me…” She heard it as it left her mouth. “Oh, my sweet, I’m so sorry. While we should have anticipated his betrayal, I know the loss must weigh on you heavily.” She nestled further into my chest. I breathed out, for a moment just Veda, not the Inquisitor, not the betrayed lover, not the important person forced upon me. I was mortal, Vashoth, tall and strong and being hugged by someone who loved me enough to allow me to be small and weak. We settled onto the couch. I pulled my legs in front of me

“You know better than anyone. I remember, I was there when you lost Bastien.”

“And I was there when you lost the Iron Bull,” she sighed. “We are sisters in grief, as well as sisters in victory. We’re sisters in success, although your’s has had its struggles as of late. I assume the Divine told you of the bards?”

“Josephine.”

“The Nightingale sending a gentler songbird. Wise.”

“I assumed it would happen. Charter brought back the lyrics and playbook from what she considered the more consumable tales,” I said.

“They’re vile, darling. I offered the services of the Circle. The Divine declined. I assumed she had sent assassins.”

“No, I turned down the offers.”

“You’re losing political capital, my dear. If you want to return to the world, recruit who you need to defeat Solas, you’ll need allies. New allies, old allies. It will require quite the force and connections. You know you have the Circle, as much as we can politically sacrifice in this turbulent time,” she said.

“It isn’t the first thing on my mind, at the moment,” I said.

“And why not darling? If you choose to remain in obscurity at some point it will no longer be a choice.”

 It’s spring, it is the last night at Skyhold before we leave for the Exalted Council. Cullen and Josephine have been up bickering most the evening, finally put to rest. I settle into my room, sitting at my desk, twiddling my pen. My bag is packed, the horses are ready. The door creaks open. I don’t look up, I can smell him from here. Even after a bath he smells like home, smoky and warm. “Hey, Kadan.”

“Hey,” I say, “they finished?”

“Well, Cullen is now arguing with Cabot which gave me enough time to get the serving girls to feed Josephine. She wanted to get back to bickering, but I asked her if the itinerary had been checked. So I think they’re fine for now.”

“They’re just worried about tomorrow, the coming weeks. It’s normal,” I say,

“You’re the one who grew up with humans. They worry too much, but it makes them easy to work with. Like clay.” I smile and look back down at my papers. “Enough work, Kadan. You can’t do anything more today.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Are you going to make me?” I smirk.

“Oh, is this what we’re doing?”

“Oh you didn’t know?” I laugh. “I thought you knew it all, everything I needed, Ben-Hassrath training, remember?” He smiles and walks towards me, I slide back in my seat and he scoops me up.

In bed, his heart pumps slow and heavy in his chest. I trace his body with my hands, his arm around me. Our horns rub against each other, small grooves from the years of lying here together. “Better?” He asks.

“What do you think?”

“I know. I just want to know if you know.” I lean up and kiss him.

“Yes, better.” He smells better when he’s sweaty. Something about those early days, seeing him tear through crowds, watching his arms lift and push those heavy swords and axes. Long before, when the Chargers still existed, when he wasn’t just my man, but their man.

“What’s wrong?” He asks.

“I’m sorry, you know,” I say. For a moment, he’s silent, sitting in the grief.

“You made the right choice. You made the only choice. You led like a Qunari.”

“It shouldn’t have been my choice. I should have let you decide,” I say.

“No,” He says, clipped. “You are the Inquisitor. It was your decision, to keep the alliance or lose it. You made history. You stopped a batshit insane darkspawn from destroying the world.”

“I could have stopped him anyway,” I say.

“We don’t know that. The Tamassrans used to say, ‘When there are no right choices, the right decision is the one you make and the one you live with.’” I nestle into his chest.

“I’m happy the Qunari have kept you here.”

“Me too, Kadan.”

“I love you, Bull.” He pulls me closer into him. For a moment, I wonder if he’s crying.

 “I don’t want you to be angry, Viv,” I said.

"Oh what now darling? First you go into solitude like a hermit, what’s next?” I put my legs down and pulled my robes back. “What’s this?” She looked, at first with curiosity, then her eyes widened. “Veda, oh Veda, are you?”

My eyes well, “Yeah, Viv. I am.”

She covers her mouth, the first time I’ve seen her truly shocked. “And is it…?” With that question, the tears fall. The heavy sobs wrack my chest and Vivienne crawls towards me, arms draped around my shoulders and I cry into her chest. “Oh darling, of course you’ve been distracted.” She rubs the back of my head, stroking my neck as I calm down. “Should I ask Harding for some tea? Juice? No wine, of course.” I shake my head. “Oh dear. Who all knows?”

I swallow and trap my tears in my chest. “So far you, Leliana, Thom, and Cassandra. Lace knows, and she’s kept questions from Charter and Rector to a minimum.”

“You haven’t told Josephine?”

“How could I? What could I possibly say, ‘Oh yes, enjoy your new career in Antiva! By the way, I’m carrying the betrayer’s child! Send my love to Yves and Yvette!’”

“I don’t think keeping it secret is much wiser, my dear. People will know, especially once the child is here. Do the Qunari know?” She asked.

“As far as Leliana’s sources know, no. Bull was loyal to the end, they had no reason to think he’d do this, especially when it hadn’t happened in the years before.”

“When did this happen?”

“Right before we left for the Exalted Council,” I said.

“Oh.”

“I know,” I said. “He must have known. I can’t decide if this was kindness or cruelty.”

“What’s that line he always said, darling? ‘When it’s a hostile target, you give them what they want. When it’s someone you care about, you give them what they need.’”

The tears well again. My hands slide to swollen belly. “It isn’t what I wanted. I had never even considered it. He was Qunari enough that I knew we’d never have a family.”

She reached a hand towards my belly, “May I?” I sniffed and nodded. She placed her hands on my stomach, on top of my own hands. “If this isn’t what you wanted, then it must have been what he thought you needed.”

  “He couldn’t have known we’d win. He fought like he meant it. He struck me with his blade. He wasn’t fighting to lose.” The anger and grief mixed in my throat.

“He wasn’t, he never did, darling. But he knew you. He knew us. He knew you’d bring me and Cassandra. He knew what the Qunari could and couldn’t do. He believed in you, at the end. Just as he had at the beginning, my dear.” I took a hand from my belly and moved it to the outside of my horn, the groove still there from the years spent lying together.

“I’m not planning on bringing  my child into the public life. We’ll have a few years, at least, presuming we aren’t all destroyed by Solas,” I said.

“Shh, no reason to worry about that right now, darling. We have today’s troubles and tomorrow’s troubles.” She sat back and blinked away her own tears. “I’ve never been an aunt before. I’ll of course send over a suite of clothes and supplies from Val Royeux.”

 I wipe my eyes and smile, “Are you going to be an aunt or a Grandma’am?”

"Oh you miserable louse, how dare you?” She said, the tears finally pouring from her eyes.

[prurientpuddlejumper]

A New Arrangement [Part 9/9][NSFW]

K!nktober 2020 Kink Bingo!: Cockwarming

<- Part 8 | Bonus Chapter ->

Summary: Post-coital cuddling with Frederick Chilton

For @thatesqcrush​’s kink bingo!

1,448 words

He collapsed on top of you, rolling you onto your back without removing the sweet, filling pressure of his still-hard erection from your warmth. He nuzzled his face against yours with blatant neediness until you kissed him, then he sighed happily, and let his whole body go limp on top of you.

“That was so good,” you said, out of breath, chaffed, mussed, and glowing with euphoria.

He let out a muffled hum of agreement into the mattress, which you more felt vibrating than heard.

Minutes passed in peaceful, comfortable silence. You half dozed with exhaustion, softly caressing the solid, reassuring body weighing down on you, sweat slowly saturating through his once-pristine dress shirt. His cock felt so nice, still nestled inside you as it gradually softened. You stroked his sweaty back, unsure if he had fallen asleep.

“Mmm. Doctor Chilton, this is nice,” you murmured dreamily.

“I believe, at this juncture, it would be appropriate to call me Frederick.”

The familiarity made your heart skip unexpectedly. “Frederick,” you said, trying it out. It tasted good rolling over your tongue, so you said it again. “Frederick. I like that. It’s a good name.”

He lifted his head to watch your perfect lips forming the shape of his name. “It is Germanic in origin...” he said, then paused, thinking better of it before launching into a boring onomastics lesson you surely had no interest in hearing. Why could he not think of anything more… romantic?

“It’s cute. It sounds regal… but also very cuddly,” you warmly opined. “Like a lord or a duke, or a teddy bear. Sir Teddy Bear. Frederick.”

He had nothing to say to that (although the temptation to describe the name’s royal history grew stronger), so he buried his face further into your neck.

An analog clock ticked atop a dresser. Frederick breathed in and out. Otherwise, his bedroom was soundproof enough that you were immersed in silence. You enjoyed the closeness of his body. You wished you had more bare skin to touch, but were content to settle for his neck and his head for now. And because you were completely naked, every caress of his fingers was skin on skin.

He enjoyed your naked body, not just because it aroused him sexually. He felt at ease. It seemed a fair trade off for the parts of him you had gotten to see—parts he was firmly dedicated to hiding until they could be corrected.

A thread of fear pulled at his chest, tugging insistently through the sleepy contentedness he was drowsing in until he could no longer ignore it. He lifted his head from your shoulder and craned it one way and then the other. He stretched as far he could reach without pulling out of you.

“Are you looking for something?”

The corners of his eyes tightened. A cheek flinched. “The mask fell somewhere, and I want it back,” he said calmly, but with an undercurrent of rising urgency.

He had spent the last several months hiding his face, and one satisfying fuck wasn’t enough to make him ready to be exposed for so long. It was impressive he’d lasted as long as he had without it, but an invisible time limit was fast approaching. You understood, any sympathized. You would miss him, though.

“I’ll help look. Can I kiss you one more time without it?”

“Hurry up,” he said, anxious to retreat into the familiar safety of being covered.

You turned your head and pressed your lips tenderly against his cheek, so soft and yielding, so without judgment toward the patchwork of grafts and scars he had been living in shame of, that he turned his head to kiss you on the mouth. For the frozen fraction of a second that he made contact, a bolt of terror that he was mistaken in putting faith in your reassurances and that you did not actually want him to kiss you and would pull away in disgust paralyzed him. With a low moan, your lips parted over his teeth, tongue sliding over the edges, licking and teasing until he melted and kissed you back.

He released a long, shuddering breath. “You do that so well.”

“Well, you feel so good,” you smiled.

There was no way to find the mask with his softened cock falling out of you, so you lay together until his impatience to be covered outweighed the soothing comfort of his cock still buried warm and safe inside you.

He crawled to the edge of the bed, and you sat up and checked the other side.

The mask had not fallen far. It lay face-down on the plush carpet under the bed, narrowly missing a landing on the bright hardwood that would have chipped or shattered it. Frederick snatched it, and sighed with relief as he slipped it back over his face. Shelter. He was… embarrassed to still need it, after everything, but he was not comfortable with you looking at him. He felt too exposed. Too vulnerable.

He rolled onto his back, spreading his limbs out across the bed.

“That… was quite good. Thank you,” he said awkwardly, as if you’d cooked dinner. It made you laugh softly, and shake your head.

“Thank you. For letting me share that with you.”

The mask was back on securely, so you couldn’t tell if he was blushing, or smiling. But you had a feeling he might have been.

***

You were finishing up the last two buttons of your blouse when Frederick returned from the bathroom in clean pants and a fresh shirt to replace the sweaty one, restored to the default appearance with which he always answered the door. You had half expected him to be wearing a Hugh Hefner robe or at least something more relaxed following his conquest, but no. This was a man who would wear formal attire in his own bedroom until you left. Possibly even when he was alone. At least he’d lost the tie.

“Must you leave?” he said.

“I’m sorry,” you said, gathering up your things, “I have three more appointments today and I’m running late.”

“Other appointments. I see,” he grumbled peevishly, chin in the air.

“Don’t be jealous, Frederick,” you grinned. “I don’t fuck any of my other clients.”

“You did not used to,” he corrected, shoulders circling, “but perhaps I have given you ideas. If I was able to seduce you…”

You crossed the room to him and tapped a finger on his chest, brows lowered. “You are a special case. You’re… intriguing...” As you let your pointer finger drift down the center of his chest you noticed he left the top buttons undone. You hungrily stared at the warm, exposed flesh. Snapping your eyes back up to his, you teased, “At the very least, I am more than satisfied for the rest of the day. I’m going to be sore tomorrow.”

He gave a proud hum, vibrating the air behind the mask, and wrapped a possessive arm around your lower back. “Can we make another appointment for next week? Officially, I would put you on retainer as a financial consultant assisting me on an ongoing basis...”

Oh, right. You had almost forgotten about the silly paying-for-your-services thing.

“Just ask me on a date, dummy. I’ll say yes,” is what you should have said. But feelings were messy, and he was still so fragile. A relationship bound together by the chaotic whims of emotion probably terrified him, or else he would have just asked you out. Money was safer. Money let him be in control. 

Besides, there was nothing wrong with making some extra cash, was there? He had plenty of it. 

“I’ll mark it in my calendar,” you said, and kissed his cold porcelain lips, your fingers curling around the warm base of his neck. You had a rich, eccentric, hermit sugar daddy now, and you had to admit, that was exciting. 

There was no way being paid for sex could ever come back to bite you in the ass.

With an exhausted groan of effort, he grabbed the cane beside his bed and walked you to the door. On your way out to the car, he pulled open one of the dark curtains to watch you go (you were surprised he didn’t hiss at the sunlight and crumble into a heap of dust). He was eerie, a pale porcelain ghost floating in the window. Anyone else might have worried they were in the opening act of a slasher film, but a warm tingling flooded your chest—a contented drunkenness so strong you had to breathe in purposefully to recenter yourself before you waved to him and drove away.

[thetriggeredhappy]

[thinks about a comfort fic with sniper and scout cuddling and scouts a little mopey that night (ty spy ily spy) and he asks really quietly “am I stupid” and sniper gives the 745 reasons scout is Not stupid because he REALLY is Not]

i will stand by the fact that scout’s not dumb he just has ADHD until the day i fucking die and that’s that. (warnings for very mild violence and scout hurt followed right away by scout comfort)

-

At least Scout had finally settled down, Sniper thought to himself, carding his fingers through his hair.

Sniper had seen him outside having a run, heading in circles around the base and surrounding land at a pretty brisk pace. It was something Scout did sometimes to clear his head, and Sniper would catch sight of him doing that pretty regularly, and so wasn’t too much concerned. Then, an hour later, when he looked outside and saw Scout still running despite the fact that it was getting dark, he’d gone outside.

And it hadn’t startled him that Scout was out of breath—jogging for an hour would do that to anyone, even someone as in-shape as Scout—but it startled him to see that Scout was breathing so heavily through his mouth. Then he realized Scout had probably been doing that for some time, because all at once he noticed that Scout’s nose was bright red and very swollen, blood all across the bottom half of his face.

He hadn’t even asked at first, just taking Scout by the wrist and pulling him back to his camper. He’d given Scout a glass of water (which was drained in about five gulps), cleaned the blood off his face (“Oh, shit, that was bleeding again? I thought that was just sweat—“), and gotten an ice pack for his nose.

“What happened?” Sniper asked once all that was taken care of, tone leaving no room for argument.

Scout’s head fell, and he remained silent.

“Bilby, if you don’t tell me who did this, I’m going to head inside that base and start putting holes in the first bloke I find,” he said matter-of-factly, aware that his voice was intimidating and trying very hard to keep anger out of his tone. “What. Happened?”

“I got in a fight,” Scout started, speaking slowly, carefully. Sniper was tempted to interrupt, to say yeah, clearly, but he didn’t, just letting Scout talk. “Spy was just, he was getting on my case again, and, and saying all kinds of fuckin’… garbage. About… just, it was… look, he was just on my case again, alright? And I, I mouthed off, and then there was a fight, and half the team came in to break it up, and I… went out to take a run, and then I just, I don’t fuckin’ wanna go back in there.”

“Alright,” Sniper said quietly, putting a cautious hand on his shoulder in what he hopes was a comforting motion. “Alright, you can… stay here tonight.”

“But you—“ Scout started to protest, but he cut himself off, setting his jaw.

“What? What is it?” Sniper gently prompted.

“You said you don’t want me in here on weekdays,” Scout said quietly, unable to look at him.

Sniper’s heart ached. “When did I say that?”

“Last week. You said…” Scout started hesitantly, glancing up at him.

Silence. “Mate, I, I meant about sleeping over, since we have work in the morning and neither of us gets to bed when you do, we’re always up talking until late, I—you’re always welcome in here, I just wanted to make sure we were both getting enough sleep,” he clarified.

“But we’ve got work tomorrow,” Scout tried next, looking increasingly lost.

“We can make exceptions,” Sniper shrugged, “it’s alright. As long as we don’t make a habit of it.”

Scout nodded hesitantly, still clearly unsure. “So I can sleep over?”

“Yeah. ‘Course.”

To be honest, Sniper wasn’t particularly used to having to tiptoe around Scout. He wasn’t in the practice of being particularly rude to people, and it generally took something excessively mean to get Scout upset anyways, so it wasn’t a concern. Scout had a pretty thick skin. Except… apparently he didn’t. Because all at once he seemed hesitant, jumpy, visibly trying to make himself seem smaller, even if he didn’t seem to be aware of it.

He urged Scout to go ahead and use his shower, found some of Scout’s pajamas that he’d left over and passed them through the door. Soon enough Scout was in bed with him, settled in against him, curled around Sniper’s arm with his head on his chest. And finally he seemed relaxed, as ease, like he wasn’t just sitting and waiting for Sniper to kick him out. When the nervousness melted away, it seemed that Scout was left exhausted, tired down to his bones.

“Snipes?” Scout asked quietly, voice very soft, after a long few moments of quiet.

Sniper hummed in answer to show he was still awake, going back to fiddling with Scout’s hair. It was very soft, even a bit damp, and it smelled like his own shampoo, something that made his chest feel warm the more he thought about it. “Yeah?” he asked after another moment when Scout didn’t immediately go to speak.

“Am I stupid?”

Silence. Stillness. Sniper had frozen entirely as the words and the weight behind them sunk into his mind. “No,” was all he managed after a second, words clogging his throat and choking him.

Scout seemed to sink. “I won’t get mad if you tell the truth,” he murmured, and he just, he sounded so very small in that moment, and it broke Sniper’s heart.

“Scout, that is the truth. Of course you aren’t stupid,” Sniper continued, free hand moving to squeeze Scout on the shoulder.

“Snipes, I can barely fuckin’ read, I almost didn’t make it through high school, I can’t ever remember anything important and I hardly even know English let alone—“

“Spy called you stupid?” Sniper cut in, just to be sure.

“And some other stuff,” Scout confirmed quietly. “But everyone calls me stupid. Because I am stupid.”

“No, you aren’t,” Sniper said firmly, anger bubbling away deep in his chest, but he pushed it back down for the moment, taking a deep breath and setting it aside for later. “You’re not stupid. Just because you don’t think quite the same as everyone else, that doesn’t make you stupid.”

“What if it does?”

“Bilby, it doesn’t,” he insisted.

“Well I’m sure not smart,” Scout scoffed. “I don’t—everyone here is either really smart or really good at what they do, and I’m just not, I’m just fast, I’m not cool or good at fighting or, or smart, and I, I’m not like the rest of you guys, I’m just dead weight, I don’t belong here—“

“Yes you do,” Sniper said, working hard not to snap. “You’re one of the most clever blokes around here. Not book-smart, the real kind of smart. The kind where you think of things faster, notice things, react quickly. And you’re a bloody genius at reading people when it’s important to, you’re almost always the first one to notice when someone’s acting fishy, and every time Miss Pauling comes around you always get a read on how she’s doing even though she doesn’t talk to you much—“

“Spy can do that, and Heavy can do that—“ Scout mumbled.

“But they’re also both at least twenty years older than you and either have a degree or were literally trained to read people. With everything working against you, you’re still bloody bright.”

“Clever, huh, can’t even read—“

“You slammed your way through the entirety of that Ghost D.A. series in a weekend,” Sniper pointed out.

“The kids version.”

“It was a thirty-six volume series with about two hundred pages per book. You realize that’s still impressive, right?”

“I still barely made it through school—“

“You realize that technically the Doc never went to school?” Sniper interrupted.

A pause. “What?”

“He never went to school. He was in through… what do you lot call it, elementary school? Then he was homeschooled for the rest of the required time, then he got an apprenticeship from his family and cheated his medical exams to get his license. He never even went to a real university, he just skipped to doing a residency.”

“Well he still knows what he’s doing. He’s batshit crazy, yeah, way too excited whenever he gets a dead body to mess around and experiment on, but he can only do that because he’s smart. What the hell do I know how to do?”

“Talk to people, get through places efficiently, what can hold your weight and how to balance, you always remember where you are and where you were and how to get there, you always know what people mean when they talk to you about things even if they’re bad at explaining, you’re the most empathetic bloody person I’ve ever met in my life—that’s intelligence. You’re intelligent.”

“Snipes, I can’t ever remember anything,” Scout all but snapped. “What’s the point of reading fast or knowing what people are talking about when I can’t think all the way back to breakfast, don’t know what day of the week it is half the time, always forget my chores and what I’ve gotta do for the day?”

Sniper took a deep breath. “Scout. That’s still okay. That still doesn’t make you stupid. Truckie forgets simple things like that too. So does Spy. They aren’t smarter than you, they’ve just got more practice at working around it. Truckie almost never remembers meals, Spy records things to listen to them back later.”

“He speaks like six languages,” Scout muttered.

“And he’s an arsehole in all six, what’s your point?”

For the first time that night, Scout laughed, even if it was just a little jump in his shoulders, a puff of air startled out of him.

“Bilby,” Sniper started in, voice gentle again. “You aren’t stupid. The blokes just… they pick an insult for everyone, is what it is. Soldier is insane, Demo’s a drunk, I’m a hermit, the Engineer is short. They don’t mean it, not really.”

“How come I’ve got so many, then?” Scout asked, tone not full of bitterness so much as… resigned insecurity. “I’m stupid, I’m scrawny, I’m loud, I’m annoying, I’m babyfaced, I’m uneducated, I’m rude…”

“No you aren’t, they’ve just decided to call you that,” Sniper was quick to correct.

“What’s the difference? If everyone thinks it, doesn’t that make it kinda true?”

“No,” Sniper said, carding his fingers back through Scout’s hair and feeling him relax at the attention. “No, it doesn’t.”

He kept petting at Scout’s hair for a little while, and Scout kept relaxing in increments. It was quiet for a long few moments, then minutes.

“I love you,” Sniper finally said, and Scout’s head tilted against him slightly. “And even if you were the dumbest bloke on the planet, I’d still love you. Even if you were all those things, I’d still love you. Because you’ve got a good heart, and you make me want to be better, make me want to work hard to deserve all the happiness you give me. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah,” Scout said quietly. “I love you too.”

Silence.

“Night, Snipes,” Scout said, and he really did sound tired, terribly tired.

“Night, Bilby.”

-

The next day, Scout was still out of sorts, tired, lagging behind on his morning routine. Sniper turned the tables on what they usually did, offering to go get breakfast and bring it back to the camper for him. Scout agreed quickly, maybe too quickly, and Sniper pulled on his vest and hat and made his way into the base.

The kitchen was bustling, full to the brim with the rest of the team eating their own breakfasts of varying nutritional value. Sniper made his way to the counter where the main breakfast—eggs and bacon and toast, simple and straightforward and well-agreed-upon, it must have been Medic’s turn to cook. He packed up two little boxes and shoved them in his bag, then promptly made his way back into the main eating area.

He got one or two waves, an offhanded greeting. They all seemed unperturbed. Sniper wondered whether they’d even noticed that Scout was gone, and all the anger that he’d carefully pushed down bubbled and spilled over all at once.

He picked up one of the few empty chairs at the table and slammed it back down against the ground. The resounding BANG of wood against concrete immediately drew the attention of the entire room.

“Bushman,” Spy greeted calmly from his immediate left, almost bored-looking. “Here to break our furniture, I see.”

“What’d you say to him?” Sniper asked, voice cold enough to freeze over hell.

Silence in the room, the few mercenaries not already looking alarmed quickly shifting to do so. All except Spy, who just sneered. “You’ll need to be more specific, I’m afraid,” he said with faux politeness, an undercurrent of venom that would have most people backing down.

Sniper was not most people. “What did you say to Scout yesterday?” he clarified. “Tell me what you said.”

“Oh, before he threw a temper tantrum and stormed off to hide in his room like a spineless coward?” Spy asked airily.

“He’s not in his room, Spook,” Sniper said, the deadly cold hardening further. “He’s not anywhere in the base. Now tell me what you said to him.”

In his periphery, troubled shuffling, glances, concern. Spy did no such thing, just rolling his eyes and producing a tape recorder from within his jacket, rolling it back expertly and stopping after a few moments, letting it play.

“—don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” came Scout’s voice, slightly odd-sounding, different on tape than it sounded in real life, as well as apparently being a bit distant.

“Yes I do,” came Spy’s voice, slightly louder. “You’re an idiot, and a man-child, and a coward, and are only in a desert shooting your little gun at men who can’t die because you couldn’t possibly get a job anywhere else. You’re lucky that Miss Pauling took pity on you and gave you a job here, or else you’d be lying dead, overdosed in a ditch somewhere along the east coast just like everyone else you ever knew. And the moment someone faster and more literate comes along, that’s where you’ll be ending up anyways. Before you do, pass along an apology to your mother for the inconvenience of a funeral.”

Spy clicked the button again to stop the tape, cutting off the sound of Scout starting to yell something. Then Spy moved to say something, probably snarky, probably clever, but it never made it out of his mouth, because Sniper’s fist connected with his jaw at high speeds.

As the Frenchman was sent sprawling out of his chair and to the ground, swearing, and several members of the team moved to stand up and start protesting, but Sniper squared his shoulders again and turned to level a look at them, and they promptly stopped. He shook out his hand, glaring coldly.

“I’m guessing none of you lot said anything, did you?” he asked, still cold. “Just pushed them apart when Scout stood up for himself.”

The silence spoke for itself.

“Here’s what’s going to happen now,” he continued when it became clear that nobody had anything to add. “You lot are going to stop with your little jokes. Stop your fun little game where you make fun of the littlest bloke here. And you’re going to apologize to Scout for the way you’ve all been acting. This isn’t the schoolyard, and you’re all far too old to be acting like bullies just because he hardly ever bothers standing up for himself. And if you don’t, if you keep acting like children, you’re going to regret it.”

“You plan on knocking the whole team out cold, son?” the Engineer asked down the table, his own tone sharp. “Or are you saying Scout’s gonna try?”

“No,” he said. “Neither of us. That’s not what I meant.”

Quiet for a second.

“You’re all willing to lose Scout over this?” he asked flatly, looking around the room. Several of the team couldn’t meet his eyes. “You’re alright with Scout leaving, quitting this job, rather than you lot putting in the effort to stop being complete fuckin’ bastards to him all the time?”

“Where is he? Where did little Scout go?” Heavy cut in to ask.

“Is the lad alright?” Demo asked, genuine concern etched across his face.

“I found him when he was out for a run,” Sniper replied, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Nose bleeding and all. Acting like he’d just seen a ghost. He talked to me. Maybe because I’m not a complete and utter cunt to him.”

Guilt seemed to be a common factor in most of the team’s expressions. Pyro had one hand up against their mask, body language that of upset.

“He told me he thinks he’s stupid. Worst bloke on the team, not as good as any of you lot. The weak link. Says he doesn’t think he belongs here. Wonder where he got that idea?” Sniper asked, the cold rage back in his voice again, and there were glances again, looks exchanged. “I’m not going to tolerate any more of what I just heard. Any of you in my line of sight start treating Scout like that again, there’ll be hell to pay. Because I’m not going to let you lot chase off the one good thing that’s ever happened to me just because you think you’re being cute.”

He shifted, looking over at Spy, who was still on the ground nursing his jaw, looking equal parts pissed off and concerned, something peeking through the anger, something that told Sniper that he really hadn’t ever considered the consequences.

“And if any of you give a damn about Scout, you won’t ever let that—“ a flippant gesture towards the fuming Frenchman, “—happen again. Do we have an understanding?”

A chorus of answers, all in the affirmative. Sniper nodded once, and promptly left the room.

-

He and Scout walked into the locker rooms to finish suiting up, and the place fell quiet.

Scout’s head sank, eyes falling to the floor, and he kept his head down as he walked to his locker, starting to wrap up his hands. He was doing that thing again, where he tried to make himself very, very small. Sniper sat down directly next to him as he pulled on and tightened the laces of the boots he generally wore into battle, and even that simple act of solidarity was enough at least to make Scout’s hands stop shaking so violently.

The click of expensive leather shoes on concrete, calmly coming towards them. Sniper felt the runner shift beside him, looking up, but he didn’t bother, keeping his eyes on his task.

“Scout,” Spy said, tone as aloof as every other day of the year.

“Just fuck off, Spy,” Scout mumbled, and perhaps Spy didn’t hear it, but Sniper did—the waver in his voice.

“No. I have something important to say,” Spy replied, tone even. A very brief pause fell. “I’m sorry.”

Sniper’s gaze flicked up. Scout went tense next to him. “What?”

“I apologize. I was out of line yesterday. I said several things which I very much regret. I sincerely did not think you cared enough about my opinion of you that my insults would in any way hurt, and clearly I was wrong, and so, I am sorry.” His words were awkward, not in the way of them being forced, but in the way that told them that Spy was uncomfortable, clearly not much used to giving real apologies.

Silence for a second before a Scout figured out how the hell to react to that. When he did speak, his voice was tight. “What, did Medic make you come over and apologize or something? Did Hardhat yell at you?” he asked, frustration filtering through.

“No. They did not. It just became very clear from your reaction that you were upset, and now that I’ve had time to think about it, I’m…” He paused. “I’m sorry.”

Scout was quiet again. Sniper glanced at him. He looked confused, mostly. “Okay,” he finally said, very much lost on what to do.

Spy nodded, looked away. Seemed to chew on his words for a moment. “And I take back what I said,” he added, quieter now. “You are not someone that could be easily replaced on this team. You play a very important role here, and… you are good at what you do, and we are all very fortunate to have you here on our team.”

Scout outright didn’t reply to that, visibly at a loss for words.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Spy finally said, glanced between Scout and Sniper, walked away from them and towards the rest of the team, a stiffness to his posture.

Sniper watched him go, saw the way the rest of the team glanced at Spy, saw Spy starting to talk quietly to Heavy and Demo, the latter of whom glanced back towards the two of them. Then he looked at Scout, hoping Scout didn’t see the overt way they were interacting, and saw that Scout very much wasn’t paying attention to that. Instead, he had his head ducked, and was starting to sniffle, eyes welling up.

“Wait, Bilby, what’s wrong?” Sniper asked quickly, a hand on his shoulder, ducking to try and get a good look at his expression, confusion and concern mounting.

“No, I, it’s just—“ He sniffled again and swallowed hard, hurriedly wiping off his eyes with his forearm as a few tears started falling. He took a few seconds to compose himself, and bent further forward when he cracked again. “I just, I think that was the nicest thing any of the guys have ever said to me.”

Sniper took a moment or two to process that, a series of complicated emotions rising in his chest, before he simply moved to pull Scout into a tight hug, his own throat becoming tight.

His gaze rose to the rest of the team, most of whom seemed to be watching them with some amount of concern and confusion. He flashed them a thumbs up as covertly as possible, and they relaxed, returning to what they had been doing.

They all became much nicer to Scout, still occasionally ragging on him, but largely dialing it back to a normal level, to the level they gave just about everyone on the team rather than him being the common target. And it took a while—a long while—but Scout seemed to brighten, straighten, smile more, relax more. And god, was Sniper happy to see it. God was he happy to see it.

[writing-the-end]

LoL Chapter 9- Burnt Parchment

Masterpost

A Wizard Hermits tale (AU belongs to @theguardiansofredland )

A brief respite for the hermits, they all take the time to rest, train, and learn more. While Xisuma digs through the libraries for information on dark magic, Stress discovers an unnerving note far from home.

____________________________________

Xisuma hums to himself, fingers running along the books. Old leather soft and emblazoned with gilded letters, sharp parchment of scrolls cutting into his skin with new vigor. All kinds of books and tomes and tablets, collected among Joe’s library. It’s a well cared for collection, and Joe prides himself on all the knowledge stowed in his home. 

The only problem is how he sorts his books. Most librarians would use one of many systems developed by scholars, perhaps by genre or author’s last name. But no, Joe used his own strange system, a madness to his method. No matter what the other hermits do to fix his insanity among the stacks, he only shuffles it back. And Xisuma is stuck reading through the strange collection their resident poet has amassed. He blinks away as he reads something he’d rather not, and pulls free an aged scroll, adding it to the collection in his hands. 

Xisuma steps back, turning. His eyes fall across the large black lacquered cabinet settled in the corner of the poet’s home. Distant from everything else, even the azure blue bed that’s covered in half-written poems and spells. Cold metal brushes against X’s fingers as he unconsciously touches the wrought iron key. “Dark magic has to be somewhere in there.” 

He reluctantly opens the banned book cabinet. Joe isn’t a person to ban books just for being controversial. In fact, the poet loves to bring books other libraries wouldn’t dare hold. Knowledge that should be spoken, kept safe. Illegal works against the Council, exposes on guilds, lost history no longer taught in schools. If their island in the Ashioll sea was a sanctuary to the illegal guild, this library was a sanctuary to illegal words. 

But even some knowledge is dangerous in the wrong hands. And if there’s anything X could call dark magic, it’s dangerous in any hand. Only one book among the darkened oak shelves gives him any hint to it’s contents including dark magic. A book about ancient magic. Why is this with the taboo tomes? Xisuma stands, tucking his armful of books close to his chest and donning his mask back on to face the sunlight.

Xisuma is a void wizard. He spends his days staring into the darkness of space, learning from the motions of dark matter and the void between stars. When others look to the light to discover truth, he can see everything beyond space and time, warped by the light others seek. X’s fingers run across a fractured part of his helmet. Where an insignia of a sun surrounded by spiraling void was dented out of existence. He can just barely feel the sharp triangular points of his brother’s symbol nowadays. 

He pulls the mask over his head, and braves the sunshine of his island home. In the distance, he can hear yelling, followed by the sharp clang of metal. The ground rumbles, and out of the corner of X’s vision he sees pillars of stone spire free from the grass. False and Scar are dueling, and Xisuma notices silver coins being passed between TFC and Cub. An easy smile appears beneath X’s mask. TFC was never one to stay holed up in the infirmary long. He’s still pale and weak from the crystal attack, but nothing would stop the guildmaster from being with his family. So long as he’s not using his magic, Xisuma won’t stop him. 

The fading black veins up TFC’s arm reminds Xisuma why he’s researching dark magic. After what happened to their guildmaster, their leader and father figure, Xisuma needs to know why it happened. And how to stop it from hurting any of his family. Ever again. Dirt crunches under his boots as Xisuma walks to the stone tower he calls home. The oldest structure, the first part of the island built up. When him and his brother fled into the mysterious sea, setting up the Order of Hermits. Fitting name, seeing as they’re the only ones brave enough- or stupid enough- to call the odd archapelago home. 

“Sheshwammy!” Keralis’s voice runs across the air like honey, but the magnitude of his voice causes Xisuma to jolt in his boots. A scroll drops, falling open and rolling across the dirt. Xisuma groans, tucking his chin to chase after the runaway parchment. Keralis aids him, scooping up the scroll and tightening the paper around the wooden rod. “Whatcha got there? A little bit of light reading?” 

“I wouldn’t call dark magic ‘light reading’.” Xisuma chuckles, plucking the scroll handed across from him. Keralis’s expression is quite alarmed. 

“Dark magic? Like spooky scary attacking crystal dark magic?” Keralis peers at the books in Xisuma’s hand. “Why are you trying to learn dark magic?”

“I’m not trying to learn it- I’m trying to learn about it. So...so things that happened in Gildara don’t ever happen here. Don’t ever happen to our island.” Keralis nods, nudging Xisuma’s shoulder to show it was all in jest. And the void mage feels like he can breathe. 

“Are you going to hole up in that tower of yours then?” Keralis watches X’s eyes through his visor, the crossed scars over his left eye. “Sheshwammy, come, let’s have some tea in my house! Soak in the sun, it’s good for you!” 

Keralis waves Xisuma to the glass hemisphere, tall grass and undergrowth flourishing in the massive terrarium. A single tree props up the glass from within, and a beehive thick with honey sits like fruit hung low from the tree. Black flecks buzz around among the terrarium, denizens of bugs flying in their habitat. To and from their food and wherever they make home within Keralis’s terrarium. When Keralis first showcased his magic to Xisuma, he admits he was freaked out. To gain magic by consuming bugs seemed...strange. But over time, it was no different than Joe’s poetry magic or Tango’s hellbound spells.

“Hello Suzy. How’s the hive today?” Keralis giggles, giving the fuzzy bee a pat. X stops at the door, watching Keralis file away some of his magical treats for later. “I was just coming to grab some more beetles before fighting Cleo, but this gives me an excuse to not face her now.” 

Xisuma sits down among the grass, the tall blades bending outward like a nest. Green and grey robes spread out, and Xisuma sets his pile of books on Keralis’s green bed. Keralis places a cup of tea in his hand, his friend remembering exactly how much sugar, honey, and milk he likes in his tea. Xisuma’s shoulders untense, remembering why he wanted a guild in the first place.

They weren’t just a team. They were family. They have each other. He’s not the only one worrying about TFC, others are taking good care of him. And they take good care of each other, including X. Xisuma swirls the spoon in his tea, blowing on the steaming drink and raising his head to feel the sun filter through the glass dome. His brother always wanted a family like this, but sometimes the sun shines too bright even for those who rely on it’s light. Every time Xisuma feels the warm rays on his brown hair, he thinks of his brother. 

But he always chases the thoughts out. That wimp left, ran away when things finally started to become real. Xisuma pulls the book on the top of the stack and forces it open. He flips to the page about magic law and illegal magic. 

Keralis peeks over Xisuma’s shoulder, trying to follow the insane speed the void wizard reads at. He doesn’t catch everything he sees, or understands most of what he reads, but the pages do reference the words he fears to be true. “Do you really think someone is practicing dark magic?” 

“I’m sure it’s dark magic. You saw how those husk people acted.” Xisuma picks up a book discarded to the side, pointing to a single paragraph. Hardly more than a line references the process of magic. “Dark magic is illegal for a reason- it steals power, killing the person who it’s stolen from. But none of these books talk about how it happens. There’s no mention of crystals, or the entire land devoid of life. A grey wasteland.” 

“What about this book?” Keralis sits in the grass, pulling up a massive, ancient leather book. “Plirus Mageia.” The bug mage opens the book, dust spouting free of the yellow, torn pages and causing Keralis to cough. 

“Well, it says it’s complete, but does that really mean…” Keralis grins as he discovers dark magic listed in the index, flipping to the page. It’s Xisuma’s turn to peer over Keralis’s shoulder, watching the ancient pages flipping forward, deft fingers searching for the page number listed.  Until they go past it. Keralis frowns, and flips back. And misses again. One by one, they look through the book. All that remains of the chapter on dark magic is ash, pouring into Keralis’s lap when he tips the book forward. “Someone doesn’t want dark magic to get out.” 

“Or someone doesn’t want anyone to know their secret.” Keralis whispers. 

-------------------------------------------

Stress packs the snow tight, pressing rosy pink lips onto the forehead of the snowman. One hand has her icy magic circle pressing against the torso. A little kiss like that sends magic surging through the white snow, each crystal and snowflake imbued with her power. The stone eyes blink and bluster against it’s cold body, and stick arms wiggle to life. “There you go lovely! Go explore! Watch out fer the edge!” 

Stress giggles as the snowman wanders across her icy island home. Just offshore of Eremita, she built her igloo under the cooling respite of an eternal snowcloud. She sits back, closing her eyes and feeling the chill touch of snowflakes falling on her pale cheeks. The cold water tickles her skin, clinging to the warm, fluffy grey fuzz that keeps her comfortable. She loves the cold, because it means she can cozy up in her warm robes, fluffy boots, and thick pants. She doesn’t have to worry about her hair being too long at her neck, or if she has too many blankets- which is never enough in her opinion. She’s known as a blanket thief, and it takes bribery to get them back. 

Snow crunches, the fresh layer depressing onto the white powder beneath it. Stress peeks open her eyes, and notices her new snow friend is waving for her attention, rock mouth mute to call for her. Rigid sticks flap back and forth, until the snowman knows it has her attention. It points a wooden finger down to the icy waters around her island. 

“What is that doin’ here?” Stress questions, standing up. She brushes the snow from her rear, watching the tiny boat rock against the ice chunks. She can only imagine if these enchanted sailboats had little itty bitty sailors, they’d look like massive icebergs, just before a frozen continent at the bow. “I thought these didn’t leave the cities.” 

Stress scoops up the wooden boat, fingers running along the smoldering fabric sail. The edges turn to ash upon her touch, embers eating further into the sail and smoking the wooden ship. It’s in bad shape, and Stress can’t figure out how such a little ship meant for messaging within a city made its way out here. Why is it burned?

She remembers the contents of the boat, pulling off a glove to squeeze her finger into the thin deck. Sure enough, a scroll was being carried by the scorched ship. The snowman at her side reaches for the boat, like a child desiring a toy. It’s wish is granted, Stress ignoring the boat in lieu of opening the parchment. 

It’s burned as well, and whatever edges aren’t black and charred are torn and tattered. On the backside, Stress can see printed letters torn through. It reminds her of when she went to school in Milliara, among the other noble children learning how to be good heirs, passing notes on torn sheets of their notebooks. The twine falls apart in her hand, allowing the burnt parchment to open. 

Stress gasps, letting the letter fall to the snow. She runs to the icy edge of her snowstorm, but the ice rises to meet her feet. Walking across frozen water beneath her shoes, until she’s on solid ground again. She doesn’t slow, doesn’t hesitate. She needs to tell the others what was on the paper. 

The parchment, burnt and soaked with snow, flutters in the warm Ashioll sea air. Blood for ink scrawls out two words. 

HELP DANES

[banashee]

16 – Freezing

A massive cold front has made itself home in New York for the better part of the week, and the chill that comes with it has settled deep down in peoples bones. Most places are closed, because no one wants to go out. Instead, anyone who can stays home, and they wrap themselves in blankets and drink anything warm they can get their hands on.

The residents of the Avengers Tower are no exception – even supervillians stay home, so they take the chance to do the same. Well, that, and the fact that... Most of them don't deal well with the cold, especially when they don't have to focus on a fight.

When Bucky opens the door to their bedroom, a wave of hot air puffs out and he quickly snuffles in, deposits the big thermos he's just refilled with tea on the nightstand and wraps himself back around Steve. Steve who runs hot most days but can't stop shaking when the temperatures drop. It reminds him too much of being frozen, of landing a plane in the arctic ocean.

Bucky knows this – and the others know, too. He himself is not a fan of the cold either, having spent too much time of his life either frozen in cryo or in the snowy abysses of Russia and other places he remembers in bits and pieces.

Even before that, they had many winters where there just wasn't enough money to pay the heating bill. Those days, they spend many nights holding onto each other in an desperate attempt to find a bit of warmth. It's been those days where Bucky was the most afraid of waking up one day and to find that Steve, small and sickly, didn't make the night.

This, amongst other things, is why he's glad that in the end, he did enter Project Rebirth – neither of them would be here now if that had been different.

The cold now is bearable, because they have each other, and a warm home. It's a luxury even now, after years of having it.

*+~

In another room, two levels up from Bucky and Steve, the kitchen smells heavenly of hot chocolate.

Clint “get the hell away from me with your fucking sleeves, they hinder my range of motion” Barton pads out of said kitchen, wearing three hoodies, fluffy socks and a long scarf wound around his neck while he carries two giant mugs of hot chocolate, rich, dark and creamy, with marshmallows on top. There is not one drop of caffeine in it – just pure, sweet comfort. He steers towards the couch, where Tony is wrapped in roughly a billion blankets. He looks up and happily reaches out to take one of the mugs from Clint, and he holds up a corner of the soft pile for him to crawl back under. Which he does, settling against Tony and they wrap their legs in a knot. He lets out a deep breath, and snuggles closer.

The cold hurts.

For Tony, it's mostly the fact that he carries a hunk of metal in his chest and it always cools down rapidly. It also takes up space that should be there for his lungs to expand, which makes breathing hard when he is sick, or anxious. The scars around it ache even after many years, like old injuries tend to do in bad weather.

Clint carries healed but hurting injuries as well. Some are very recent, some are over 30 years old. Those always act up when there is a storm, too.

But the chill and the snow also remind him of years on the run, when he was a kid or young teenager, curled up in the straw next to the elephants to seek out their warmth when there was no heating in the trailer. It reminds him of years on the run, where he had to make do with cheap, crappy motel rooms when he was lucky, and street corners when he wasn't. The cold reminds him of days on end spent in a snipers nest, both before and after he joined SHIELD. Most of all, the freezing temperatures remind him of being young, hurt, scared, tired and hungry.

Clint doesn't want to think too much about the fact that being in a place where he could afford to stay home on a cold day, or even having the luxury of a warm home, let alone any food or drinks his heart desires is so new. And so nice.

He's been used to being cold and alone, although it had bothered him, not that it mattered. But now, having a place and having people... No, fuck that. He's way too tired and relaxed to get emotional about this now. He won't.

Instead, he finishes his drink and snuggles up closer together with his boyfriend.

It might be cold as balls outside, but things are good.

*+~

In the common room, Natasha is currently reading a cheesy romance novel that no one dares to make fun of. Even if they did, she'd just blame it on Clint.

Natasha, despite being Russian and claims to be immune against the cold, is wearing a thick turtleneck sweater over soft fleece leggings. And fuzzy socks – purple. They clash with her hair, but she loves the dang things. Natasha leans against Thor, who is like a living space heater, unaffected by the cold himself. He still likes to cuddle up under warm blankets, so that's what they do. On the other side of the couch, Bruce has tangled his legs with her, and he's wrapped up in many layers, seeking out his friends body heat under the blankets. He's reading, too – fiction, for once, and nothing work related. Thor is currently crocheting something that looks like it'll be a very big and fluffy sock. It's made of colorful wool that seems to contain an entire rainbow. He's content, happy and humming low into the otherwise quiet room.

When evening hits, the three of them chop up veggies and meat, which they turn into a thick and hearty stew for everyone, and call for their resident hermits when it's done.

After dinner, they pile up on the giant couch together, limbs tangled and with another batch of Clint's hot chocolate warming their hands while the frozen outside world grows darker and darker.

*+~

About the KeGo https://banashee.tumblr.com/post/189288814786/keep-going-december-kego

Also, go check out @bananaink she is the other mastermind behind KeGo  ♥

Check out my AO3 while you’re at it ♥

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21822136

[fockmeuprealgood]

The Bird’s Song - 5

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x OC

Warnings: violence, romance, slow burn, fluff, ptsd, angst

Description: Adelia is near the end when the Avengers save her from a Leviathan compound. She gets thrown into the world of superheroes when the Avengers try to figure out who she is and why she was a prisoner in the first place.

_________________________________________________________________________

Another week had passed since Sam had first brought me to the common room. I’ve ended up going up there with him more often and spending more time out of my room. I knew this recovery process was going to be long, but I could already tell that I was putting weight back on. Sam made sure that I ate my three meals a day, he even started bringing me snacks throughout the day for me to pick on.

I was laying on my hospital bed, soaking up the news again when Tony showed up to my room.

“Hey kid, let’s go. You’re moving out.” I was confused by his words. I sat up, swinging my legs off the side of the bed.

“Moving where?”

“Your own room,” He spoke casually, as if it wasn’t a big deal. “You’ve made enough progress to be discharged.”

“Oh,” I had already grown used to this room. The thought of a new place made me anxious.

“Don’t worry, Sam’s meeting us there.” He tried to put my obvious nervous at ease by mentioning Sam. I stood and followed him out of the room. I had gotten enough strength back that I could finally walk short distances without the help of a wheelchair.

We walked to the elevator and Tony pushed the button to take us up to the floor that I was now going to be staying at. I walked to the back of the elevator; I gripped the railing as I looked out the window onto the city. Tony looked at me through the side of his eye.

He leaned over to get closer to me, “You’ll love what we’ve done with the place.” He sounded a little sarcastic.

I turned back around when we slowed and walked out behind Tony once the doors opened. We went down a hallway of doors to get to our destination. I took in my surrounding, we ended up cutting through a room that was similar to the common room. The difference was that this one was smaller and didn’t have a kitchen.

We started down another hallway that only had four doors. We stopped at the only room with its door open.

“And here is your new, humble abode.” Tony said as he strode inside.

The room was larger than my hospital room. Painted a light gray, it was decorated very simply. A white and gray theme, the bed was covered in a white fluffy duvet, and had too many pillows laying on top of it. On each side of the bed were two doors, I assumed that they led to a closet and a bathroom.

Pushed against the wall opposite the bed was a dark gray desk, with a tv mounted above it and a bookshelf that matched was placed next to it. The shelf was already filled to the brim with books that I didn’t recognize.

“How do you like it?” A voice asked from the doorway. Sam had met us guys here, just like Tony said he would.

“It’s nice,” I looked back at both the both of them. “How long do I get to stay here?”

“As long as you need,” Sam responded.

I sat on the edge of the bed and let my fingers spread across the soft duvet. I took in the room around me. It was a nice gesture and I really appreciated the help they giving me, but it was odd having people act so nice to me.

“And if you ever need anything, I’m right next door.” Sam pointed to one of the walls to show me where his room was.

“Oh yeah, Cap lives across the hall too, and next door to him is Bucky,” Tony added on. “But I doubt you’ll see much of him, he’s a bit of a hermit, doesn’t like to socialize.”

Sam just gave Tony glare. I knew who Bucky was. He was like Steve; he had the serum. My father had a file on him too. I hadn’t gotten a chance to meet him though, lunike most of the other Avengers.

“Alright kid,” Tony continued as he ignored Sam’s look. “I’m gonna give you time to settle down, but I’ll be back in a couple hours. I want to show you something in my workshop.”

I nodded. Sam also left to give me time to explore my new room. I got up and softly closed the door. I turned and headed to the door that was to the right of the bed. I turned on the light to reveal a walk-in closet. It already had a few items of plain clothing in it, which I was grateful for because I didn’t have any of my own clothes here.

Switching the light off, I then walked around the bed to the other door. Inside was simple bathroom, much like the bedroom. Dark gray tiles covered the entire floor and went up the sides of the shower. Looking passed the shower, there was a toilet placed in the corner. The counter top, that looked to be a white marble, sat on top of white cabinets with sink placed in the middle.

The sight of towels hanging on the rack mounted to the wall across from me gave me the idea to shower. It had already been a day or to since my last one, and I was starting to feel sticky.

I kicked off my shoes near my bed and walked into the bathroom. Turning towards the mirror, I took in my new appearance. While I was in my hospital room, I had only taken glances in the mirror. A nurse had always been in there to help me, I didn’t want to look at myself with someone else in the room.

My stomach churned a little as my eyes crept over my face. My cheek bones were more prominent and bonier than I remember them being last, most likely from the severe weight loss. My skin was very pale. There were deep purple bags under my eyes and my lips were dry and cracked.

I peeled off my clothes to look at my body. My hip bones still stuck out and my shoulders were pointier than they should be. Across the right side of my ribs was a healing bruise that was still sore, the nurses said it was from cracked ribs. Small scars were haphazardly placed along my torso and spread to the rest of my body.

I felt tears prick my eyes and the anxiety rise from my stomach. I suddenly felt tightness in my chest. I stopped looking at my reflection as I felt a panic attack coming on. I quickly turned and opened the glass door to step inside the shower. I turned on the water and let it run down my back before it had a chance to warm up.

I let out a couple gasps and choked on sob as I lifted my hands to wipe away the salty tears that mixed with the water from the shower. Memories of my father flooded my mind as my body began to shake. I brought my arms around myself and stood under stream of now steaming water.

I just let it scald me and turn my sensitive skin red. I hoped that this subtle pain would drown out the pain from my memories. I sniffled, backing up and leaning against the cool tile of the shower. I slide down and sat of the floor, I didn’t have the strength to stand and cry.

I sat and let the water run down my body as I curled up into a ball. I leaned my head onto my knees and let my body continue to shake. I stayed there even after the skin on my hands and feet have pruned up like raisins.

__________________________________________________________________________

There we go, another chapter! Thank you for reading!!!

[cartoonfangirl1218]

EoA ships fluff headcanons part 2

Do they have bubble baths?

Eleteo: Oh yes, Mateo is a wizard after all so it’s not like they even have to plan, he just casts a spell and there in a tub of suds. Elena particularly loves it when they have rose petals to add to the mood and candles. They could spend hours in the tub together sometimes with Elena getting mischievous and starting a water fight. Gababel: Yes, originally as part of Isabel’s aromatherapy project to see if different combos of smells and soaps help relax. Ironically, she got so stressed by it, and that Gabe insisted on taking over one night to give her a relaxing bubble bath, free of science but filled with massages until she was blissed out. Estebanaomi: Not really since they have a shower on the ship and a rather cranky one at that, you never know if it’s going to be freezing or not. However on those islands, sometimes they do come across natural steam baths or jacuzzis and they take full advantage of those to enjoy each other’s company and get steamed in two different levels. Estoma: Very rarely. Like they’re busy most of the time, so they only do it on a vacation when they can have all the time in the world to enjoy it. They go very slowly, taking time to wash every single part of the others body and if the hand slips, oh well then...

Random heartwarming thing

Eleteo: Elena forgoing her usual plans of excitement and olaball and fencing to spend a whole day indoors studying spells on the spirit world with Mateo. Mateo appreciated it because not only did he need to catch up if he wanted to reach master wizard level in time for fighting the malvagos, but also seeing how hard Elena tried to sit still and pay attention even when reading uninteresting texts like that huge Spirit World book Zuzo had. Elena loves whenever Mateo goes out of his comfort zone but one particular moment was when some person from a rival kingdom, let’s go with King Hector insinuated at a royal meeting that Elena was unfit to rule due to her mood swings powers, her traitorous cousins and young age. Before anyone could even blink, Mateo got up and delivered a impassioned speech on Elena’s behalf highlighting each  and every accomplishment of hers and her strength that Hector no where near possesses as well as her compassion and true love to her subjects. Elena was amazed by how riled Mateo was, but also just in awe that he thought so highly of her. Yes, she knew he loved her but that speech was just wow.

Gababel: Gabe made Isabel cry when they were brainstorming their vows. Yes, they wanted it to be a secret but first they started joking around with mock ones like “The moment you drooled on me when you fell asleep on the carriage from Paraíso, I just knew you were the one.” Stuff like that. But then Gabe pulls out this stunner saying he knows he can make her cry which Isabel doubts https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-Zzef69S8sM Isabel was touched by how much Gabe had grown and his love for her that this guy who claimed actions spoke louder than words, could speak so eloquently when it came to describing his love for her. An act that truly touched Gabe was one time after a brutal search mission for the past month, Gabe returned back to the barracks, exhausted but excited for the next morning since he had a date with Isabel. He slept through the day. He was horrified when he woke that he missed it but to his utter shock, Isabel had cleaned his office that he had being meaning to do, as well laundered his smelly clothes and had a small note on how he needed his rest and she’ll see him tomorrow. He was touched, she didn’t have to do it. They were only dating but she cared and it warmed his heart. Estenaomi: Naomi broke her ankle one time working on the dock and this was early on in their friendship so up till now Naomi has known Esteban through his annoying, impulsive nature and his occasional sweet side. Well right then, she got a front seat view to how caring Esteban can be. He personally delivered soup to her room everyday and would stay and chat. At first, Naomi thought he was replaced by some imposter but once he started engaging in some banter about how much she complained about not being able to move. She knew it was him, and she appreciated how he took the time out of his so called busy schedule to keep her company. Naomi did a surprising, almost unexpected gift for Esteban when she vouched for his responsible nature and stood up to tell his abuelos that he was more than ready to take on more work within the palace and the Grand Council. His abuelos had been a bit blinded by how they usually see him going off on adventures but Naomi’s words woke them up to that Esteban was growing up and he was maturing. Esteban was super grateful for that and also teased her for inadvertently admitting that he was more than a “mediocre looking narcissist” as @missnobodynobodius put it.

Estoma: They have a lot of talks together by the fireplace when they become a couple and those convos can get pretty deep and sweet as well. In a mixture of nostalgic musings and a bit of insecurity over his treasonous actions, Esteban admitted that he used to be jealous of King Juan back when he was known as Prince Juan. Juan was like the perfect prince, never acting out of emotion, always responsible, a family man that would never hurt his family. He could see why everyone wanted to talk to him and be with his presence, he was like a Fairy . Doña told him she didn’t care much for fairytales much less princes. She preferred the sulky beast who only wanted love but was cursed. He was real, he knew about suffering and he was able to grow and learn lessons and mature. Fairytale princes didn’t do that. It was a thin metaphor and he knew exactly what she was implying and he melted. Bit by bit as Esteban talked about his feelings pre Shuriki and his betrayal and all the lies and deception, Doña admits some of her own past and her flaws like how she didn’t go to college. She dropped out of school after her quinceñera. Which admittedly meant she didn’t go to high school either but that sounded worse. But the best part was for once there was no teasing comments or “That explains so much.” He just listens and accepts it and doesn’t hold it against her and she loves him for that. Who drives the other crazy in bed?

Eleteo: Elena does. It’s the Flores in her but she is just very flirty and teasing and knows just how to drive Mateo wild which she enjoys because she so likes seeing Mateo’s eyes widen in anticipation and eagerness with his focus totally on her. But sometimes Mateo does too. Unintentionally. The boy can be so oblivious when he thinks is being suspenseful but Elena is just ready to explode. Gababel: Gabe for the most part. He has more experience if you pardon the euphemism plus he has all those extra moves from fencing and training and stuff. He’s a bit like Elena that he enjoys Isabel’s excitement and he also is foremost intent on pleasing her. But Isabel can give as good as he got sometimes. Don’t count out the spicy Flores gene. Estenaomi: Esteban does. He has had way too much time formulating ideas back when he was friends with Victor tbh. And though Naomi can’t believe how eager she can get when she knows Esteban can drag it out with the best of em, she also must admit, he knows what he is doing. Then again, Naomi is easily able to turn the tables sometimes when Esteban is an impatient mood, and she drives him insane. Estoma: Both do honestly, it’s like part of their cat and mouse game to show off their erotic prowess,  and have the other one begging their name like a mantra.

Modern day living?

Eleteo: I feel like Eleteo would live in Miami, Florida in a quaint but expansive beach house. Not only because of the large Latin community but it has all the beaches there and it is so colorful and lively that I imagine they would have tons of fun adventures there. Gababel: I see Gabe as a total all American guy so maybe some sort of midwestern town would fit him, but I ultimately imagine them settling in a small town in California. Somewhere in the mountains where there is a tight community and they know their neighbors but close enough for Isabel to go to her job in Silicon Valley. Estenaomi: Hmm I think they’d still be travelers like backpacking through Europe, but their home base would be a nice apartment in Miami near Eleteo or I’m thinking New Orleans, Louisiana. It’s a port town after all with diverse restaurants, peoples and places plus not to mention fun holidays like Mardi Gras. Estoma: I think they would have one of those huge penthouses in New York. Or what is that rich people place? The Hamptons. Yeah, it has it all. All the high end fashions, theatre, and business stuff. And they would totally be the type to splurge and have an additional summer apartment in Europe or something.

Aus

Gababel: So somewhat of a switch but Gabe is the royal prince of Avalor while Isabel is in the army. But not as you think. She isn’t a guard but she’s still a scientists tasked with making new more effective weapons, transportations and the like. Anyway, Gabe a la princess Jasmine wants more out of life then being a prince and occasionally playing sports like olaball like his father wants. He wants to go out and defend the people. So he sneaks out to go to the barracks but he is stopped by Isabel when he passes her laboratory which he is immediately intrigued (by the lab and her). Isabel who is sort of a working hermit and she’d be lying if she didn’t get flustered at seeing *the Prince of Avalor!!!* in her lab. Well they get to talking and Gabe is amazed that he has never heard of all her contributions and what she has done and vows to help her get the recognition she wants in a non-military experiment and Isabel promises to help in turn become a royal guard. Estenaomi: So I’ve seen young!Esteban and I’ve seen waiting for Naomi to become the appropriate age, but what if...picture a world where Esteban had also been in that amulet with Elena and when they get out Esteban is the young one and Naomi is the one in her 40s. By that time older Naomi hasn’t become any something special, but she is content with it. Sort of. Not really, but she thinks it too late for her now. Anyhow she gets on the Grand Council for her life experience around the realm and there relationship is a lot like in the show. Only Naomi is the more realistic one who knows how the world works while Esteban inspires her to see she still has a chance to get her dreams. Estoma: So in this one, Esteban made the deal with Shuriki but at last minute did the right thing and told King Raul and nothing happened. So the family was a bit hurt and confused by Esteban’s feelings of loneliness and they promised they would work on it, they still felt Esteban needed to be punished. So he is sent to a small village ranch for the summer to learn that work takes responsibility as well as a chance to see how people work together and depend on one another like a family is supposed to. And as you can guess, it was doña’a family ranch. And it’s a bit like P&P, she thinks he’s spoiled brat and an interference that she has to teach him and while Esteban thinks though the whole summer is going to suck, he finds her attitude an insult to his pride and wants to prove he can totally “slum it.” But then there competitive antagonism turns flirty banter yet there is still obstacles. Namely her fiancé and everyone’s belief, including Esteban’s, that no way he would go for a poor villager, he’s so much better than that.  Eleteo: So Mateo is the adopted son of Prince Gabe this making him Prince Mateo, however he still feels like an outsider because he is adopted as well as knowing he is capable of magic skills that royals are not suppose to possess much less study and learn. But like his brother, he decides to sneak out and find a master, that master being none other than Elena, the royal wizard, wielder of the magic of Takína. Obviously their magical studies bonds them in more ways than one. They confide in one another of Mateo’s outsider feelings and Elena who is still coming to terms with her grief of her parent’s untimely death in battle with her mortal sorceress enemy, Shuriki. So together they team up to help Elena avenge her family and for Mateo to find out the truth of his biological family.

What pet would they have?

Eleteo: I don’t know if they would since their already sooo busy with their lives. I guess Flo counts technically. But when they have kids, their children really really want a dog so they get a energetic, friendly one. The breed...probably the breed from the dog statues in Royal Rivalry. I don’t know the name though. But anyways it’s clear that the dog is like their kid’s child except when it chews up one of Mateo’s spellbooks or pees. Then it’s up to the parents to clean up of course. Mateo also gets his own personal horse to join with Canella in the royal stable. Gababel: I feel like they would keep those hamsters that Isabel had in Science Unfair. Not only for safe, animal friendly experiments but they’re just so darn cute, and easy to carry around. And it’s surprisingly engaging to watch them run around in their little track. They both have horses, of course. Can’t leave Fuego out, and even though Isabel isn’t much of a riding fan, she has one too. Estenaomi: They get a parrot. There can’t be a ship without a parrot, at least according to Esteban’s adventure fantasies. They got a blue macaw parrot and he is the most ornery, cursing bird ever. No kind word to anyone but Esteban and Naomi like him anyway. They also briefly had a monkey. Imagine the one from the Pirates of Caribbean movie but he was disruptive and had this habit of throwing plants at Esteban as if he knew his pet peeve of them. Estoma: I don’t think either would particularly own a pet. They do have horses since Esteban has Valiente and Doña would probably get one her own. The only other pet I could imagine is some stray cat that goes in and out of the palace and particularly likes to nest on Esteban’s coats if he leaves it lying on his bed. Bonus: Alonso totally uses animals as props for his dates  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l8yQDIvGz3cWhich led to King Juan implementing the rule of no borrowing animals from the royal menagerie to impress girls.

Embarrassing nickname? eleteo: Hmm I’m not sure actually but probably something like pan dulce monster for Elena because you know how she gets with her pan dulce, she’ll devour everything in sight. And Mateo especially likes to reference that picture of two year old her covered in pan dulce from your fic😉 But the thing is, it’s hard to embarrass Elena so she just takes it in stride. Elena calls Mateo some manner of nauseatingly sweet name like “Honey boo boo kins” for fun when they’re in front of Naomi and Gabe or even Olivia because Mateo’s blush is just adorable. The other embarrassing one that Mateo got in his childhood was Klutzteo because he was so uncoordinated in school. It still makes his face burn to think about it but Elena reminds him of his absolute grace when it comes to dancing. Gababel: We already know Gabe’s embarrassing nickname, “Baker boy.” Actually The Curse of El Guapo wasn’t the first time it came up.  He heard it a lot in grade school when things were a bit more class conscious and poor people were treated with disdain, also some kids couldn’t believe the Great Roberto Nuñez stopped his olaball career to bake. Isabel’s embarrassing nicknames never stuck but they usually followed the pattern of dull or boring or goody two shoes which did not boost her confidence when she sometimes compared herself to Elena.  Estenaomi: I feel like Naomi would have some sort of nickname from her parents that she keeps telling them to knock it off and they do it anyway like Miss Fiestypants which of course, Esteban found out during one of the family dinners and he loves to bring it up since it fits so well. He also makes up some of his own during their many adventures together. Naomi’s favorite nickname for Esteban is “Geyser” after the one time Esteban got drunk and got a tattoo on his back of a huge geyser that looked like it was coming from his butt (yes just like Ted’s butterfly tattoo in HIMYM. I felt a geyser would be even more ridiculous and so like drunk Esteban to go big or go home)  Naomi freaked out when she saw it and she loved making jokes about him blowing his top and stuff like that. Even after he got it removed. Estoma: Esteban’s embarrassing nickname as we know was El Segundo which had disastrous consequences on Esteban’s self esteem. It just reminded him how he was physically inferior to Victor, how everyone paid attention to Elena. That he was second to everyone else in the world. And well, just Esteban.... poor poor Esteban. Doña’s embarrassing nickname was Whore. It all started because her little sibling couldn’t pronounce her full name. And you try to convince a child to try something else when the kid is determined to say what she or he wants, and of course, others thought it was hilarious. It got worse when puberty hit, and she got self conscious that any flirty action she did would be perceived as whorish.

Meeting extended family?

Eleteo: Well obviously Elena has Alacazar full approval even though they got together after his death. But they can just sense it you know. Mateo is beloved by Elena’s grandparents. If I may take from Becky, with Luisa in particular trying to put some meat on his bones. Isabel likes Mateo too of course. He’s like a brother, one who is always willing to listen to her invention ideas and also a calming influence on Elena. Esteban thinks the same. Gababel: Isabel’s whole family enjoys Gabe’s presence though Elena sometimes likes to pull the protective big sister act to catch Gabe off guard. But still their friendship is solid albeit with more teasing. Francisco likes the chance to talk about his vigilante days and watch his swordsmanship and Luisa once again overloads him with treats. Esteban respects Gabe and he too, sometimes pulls protective older sibling act because Isabel is the baby and they’re just protective of her in general. Isabel got to meet Gabe’s aunts and uncles and cousins during the engagement party which was awkward at first. A lot of them were intimidating because she was *the princess of Avalor * but as time wore on, she began to make them feel at ease with his goofy jokes and love of science. Though some still panic when they think they might have potentially offended her. Estenaomi: Esteban was a hit with Naomi’s cousins and aunts and uncles who like to tease and joke with him about his fancy manners and pampered upbringing. Basically it was a fun party with lots of back crushing hugs and blueberry juice. It didn’t take much to win them over. He was already a part of it. Naomi was already warmly accepted with Elena thrilled for her bff to become her sister and Luisa and Francisco admiring her spunk and sassy ways. They thought they balanced each out well. Isabel enjoyed was always counted on to be a riveted audience or a tie breaker for a fight. Estoma: Francisco being the kind man he was happily accepted Esteban’s new gf, and they found a lot to talk about like books and theatre and other culture stuff. Luisa was a bit wary because she knows how Doña acts and Doña was awkwardly polite to her. It got better after the marriage and stuff. Elena was willing to try to make the best of it and so was Isabel but they never became close like Mateo and Gabe are. Age differences and such. Doña didn’t have any contact with her extended family and the only one alive that she knew of her was abuelo who still held a grudge about her parents eloping. But Esteban insisted on going because he wanted to meet him. First, the man didn’t appreciate the unexpected visit. Then began the judgyness like why are you living together when you’re not married? Why marry someone from outside your village? And acting personally offended by how rich Esteban was like in that HIMYM clip, “Oh you with royal upbringing and fancy suit, YOU THINK YA BETTER THAN ME?” Esteban was furious and wasn’t sure how appropriate it would be to throw his drink back at him and yell “YES! I AM!”

[vegetacide]

Whump●tober -Shaky Hands

Veg-notables: So I decided that this one needed a revisit as the aftermath of 10.Unconscious intrigued me.. I intended to take a break today.. oops.. failed. 

@gumnut-logic  ::sneak attack…::

Obligatory whumptober stuff: @whumptober2019 @la-vie-en-whump

Blanket warning: Post brain explosions.. With residual ouchiness and discombobulation

Characters: Virgil/Kayo...

Whumptober - TaG’verse

Previous post for this can be found HERE 

1. Shaky hands

Enjoy…

oOo

The fight to regain consciousness was a grueling task as Virgil’s brain sluggishly began to turn over and his internal dialogue fought to crawl back to the land of coherent thought. The first snips of reality peppering in and out of cognizance were in a weird tableau of hazy screen shots that left him confused and utterly disoriented.

The first thing to really registered in the slow moving molasses of his mind was the soft pad of retreating steps.  The sound stood out in sharp contrast to everything else for some reason but he just couldn’t muster the energy to figure out why. No sooner had the thought entered his mind, than it was briskly whisked away with the invasion of light flashing over his closed eyelids.  

The residual ache behind his twinging optic nerves thrummed along with his heartbeat and forced him to shut down anything too complicated to process. Which didn’t leave him with much to work with except maybe breathing.  

Uhg,  what the hell? 

Shielding his eyes as the bright afterimages swirled about the inky darkness he wanted to marshal something from his flagged system to seek out and destroy the invasive luminescence.  Unfortunately that would involve ambulation and that too seemed beyond his current abilities.

A twing again.. Right, stick with breathing..   

Cautiously, he cracked open gritty eyes. Blinked repeatedly at the sting as they instantly began to water. A quick, foggy eyed glance about told him what he needed to know; location.  He was in his room, though how he actually got there was a blank in his memory.

From what little he could remember, he had been on the flight deck of Two running post flight checks when the first inclination of an oncoming migraine started to present itself.  After that, things grew very murky.  Tiny little blips of colour and texture.  A hard, cold surface, ebony richness, the scent of jasmine,  a soft lilting voice, a warm breath across his skin then there was nothing. 

Reaching up a hand to rub at the tension at his brow, a tug on his arm forced him to open his eyes again.  “..shit…” He softly cursed as he took note of the IV line and his eyes traced up the line to hazily take in the bag of saline hanging above the headboard. 

He’d really done it to himself this time and he was not looking forward to sorting this mess out once he was back on his feet.  With the way he was feeling though that was still a while off.   

Drawing in a deep, fortifying breath, Virgil heaved his torso off the bed with herculean effort and almost immediately regretted the action when the room started to spin and distort.  Maybe not one of his best ideas but considering what had transpired over the last so many hours he didn’t think he could possibly dig himself in any deeper than he already was. 

Swinging his legs off the side of the bed,  he leaned forward to rest his head in his hands, elbows braced firmly on his knees. He was intent on getting his ass out of bed and across the short distance to the his ensuite bathroom but as he looked up he almost groaned at how far away the door appeared to be. The temptation to just return to the soft confines of his bed was growing proportionately to his waning strength.  

Staring at the bathroom door just five feet from him, he willed his body to heed his mental commands.  Feet firmly planted and he readied muscles to bunch and push off when a hand landed on the back of his neck and a quiet voice whispered in his ear.

“And where do you think your going?”   

Flinching as the figure behind him scared the living shit out of him, Virgil found himself thumping to the floor with a not so very manly yelp.   Pressing his hand to his racing heart he cursed vehemently. 

“Well, good morning to you too.”  Kayo smiled leaning over the side of the bed and looking down at him.  “Don’t let Grandma hear you swear like that or she is liable to wash your mouth out with soap no matter what state your head is in.”

With the easy grace of someone who knew how to handle herself, Kayo unfurled herself from the bed and crouched down beside him.  “Come on, I’ll give you a hand.” 

All he could manage was a grunt.

Kayo tutted and ducked under his arm to help him up. He sometimes forgot how strong she wasn and in moments like these he was grateful for the practiced ease in which she used it. 

Settling him back on the edge of the bed, she unhooked the saline bag from the quick release.  her eyes concentrating on the task a little too hard for his liking.

There was a pensiveness about her that he knew well.  She was brooding and trying to figure out the best way to broach a subject that she was unsure of.  Not a good thing considering he had a pretty good idea what the content of her musings was.  

Reaching up he rubbed at the bridge of his nose and once again contemplated hermitting himself away for the next century. 

Her cool hands took hold of his forearm and pulled his hand away from his face.  Checking over the catheter, she made sure the valve for the quick release was securely closed and the small bit of line was fastened in place with an extra strip of medical tape. 

“Bathroom.”  She ordered and tugged on his arm

Back on his feet once more Kayo shuffled him off into the bathroom. She stayed a pace behind as he entered the cool confines of the tiled space and as she passed through the door, she adjusted the lights to low knowing his eyes would be sensitive to it for at least the rest of the day.  

While he took care of business, she turned the shower on and adjusted the controls. The muscles across his back tightened as the tension in the room grew  with each passing second. “In you get.”  She said once she was satisfied with the temperature but didn’t meet his eyes.

He obeyed with little complaint. He really didn’t have the energy to put up much of a fight and besides the idea the warm water washing away the sweat and easing his tired muscles did sound appealing.  

Looking down at himself he realized that he was still in his arming tunic from the other day and with a snarl he pulled it up and over his head. His boxer came next though the act of ditching those took some effort as he wobbled like a drunk on one leg. Kayo steadied him with a sturdy arm and he gave a nod of thanks. 

Naked and shivering as the cool air touched his sweaty skin he dragged in a breath, got a whiff of himself and instantly paled.  A lovely combination of sweat and vomit mingled in his nose and he winced as his stomach gave a retaliatory squeeze. 

Biting down on the impulse to toss his cookies again; like really there was anything in there to bring up, he forced his body to move and stepped under the warm spray of the shower. 

Soap, shampoo, rinse, repeat. Stand like a statue and drown.. Was that possible while in the shower?  

The stall door opened and Virgil groggily opened his eyes.  Probably not possible, he mused. Wow he really was out for lunch still. His thoughts were sluggish and random and head felt like it was floating above his body.  

“Out you get.”  Another order and she still wouldn’t meet his gaze. 

Damn it.

Stepping out she dried him off and wrapped a towel around his waist before leading him back to bed. He had to admit the shower was a good idea, it had helped a little though it had sapped what little he had left in the tank on reserve. 

A clean muscle shirt and boxers followed and she pulled back the sheets, an open invitation to get back in. 

Effort expended, he did as she silently asked and sank back into the softness of his bed.  

God, he was tired and he hated the lethargy that was going to dog him for the next few days.  This episode had been a bad one. He knew he had over extended himself but what choice had he had.  Lives had been at stake and if he could do something about it he was duty bound to step up to the plate, consequences be damned… or so he had thought. 

Pushing the pads his fingers into his eye sockets and tried not to let the continued strained silence get to him.  In his state, though his patience for waiting it out lasted a whole of thirty seconds.   “Kay…”

“I wish you wouldn’t push yourself so hard.”  She plowed right over him.  Flattened him by the tone of her voice, the worried edginess to her usually pleasing lilt. 

Crap on a cracker..  Virgil pulled a heavy breath into his lungs and the exhaustion weight down on him.  He was tempted to look and see who had placed the house on his back but the answer to that was obvious.  Himself.

Whatever his intentions at the beginning of all of this….several days ago, he hadn’t  intended on scaring her.  

He kicked himself with a groan. “Kay.  Look, I’m sorry I worried you.  It’s been a hard few days and I didn’t plan this…”

“That’s exactly the problem.”  Her green gaze shifted and lasered in on him.  “You push and push and push and completely forget that you’re human.”

She turned away from him, fusing with the saline bag as she hooked him back up again. Her handling of the IV rough and it was obvious even to his foggy brain that she was uncomfortable revealing this part of herself even to him.  “Do you know what it was like to see you like that?”  Her voice was a whisper but he heard it loud and clear as if she had used a bullhorn.  

With a bit more effort than he cared to admit, he grunted back to his feet and stepped towards her.  Reaching out he caught her hand in his and was dumbfounded to find it shaking.  

Words caught in his throat, he pulled her to him and wrapped her in his embrace. “I’m sorry.” He whispered in his ear, his voice rough as her shoulders quaked. Shit  “I’m sorry. God, I’m sorry. I’ll try harder but please don’t cry.”  

Her shoulders silently shuddered under him, the only sign that she would give of her distress and she buried her face into his neck. Her willowy arms encircling his waist and holding on tight as she tried to rein in her rampant emotions. 

Christ, he’d done it this time.  She never cried. He’d really scared her this time for her have become this upset.  

He would rather deal with her ire and scathing tongue.  Her anger was something he knew how to handle and something he much preferred. Tears though? From her?  He was at a complete loss.  

He would do better. He had to.  

He swept a comforting hand down the length of her back and brushed a kissed across her crown.  An unvoiced promise in his actions, he would do anything to make this right again. 

Energy flagging, he pulled her down to the bed with him and tucked her into his side. Comfort and sleep first then they would tackle figuring this out.  He would figure this out. 

The fading ache behind his eyes gave a little thump.  A friendly reminder of what happened when he neglected himself that he wasn’t soon to forget.   

After this he was sure he was going to have to contend with his big brother… Something that he didn’t look forward to considering the state that Kayo was in. 

Shit.... 

The End.

oOo      

Next post can be found HERE

The Master List of prompts can be found HERE

[theonewiththefanfics]

I’ll Keep You Safe (Part 2)

Synopsys: Bodyguard! Bucky; Endgame AU

When Tony Stark asked Bucky to become a bodyguard for the Reader he didn’t think his life would change that much. But it did. And not everything was for the better.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: swearing, nothing much in this chapter really

Word count: 2368

       “Bucky?” the way the name rolled off of her tongue made a shiver ripple down his spine. Her eyebrow was up in a sleek arch, and her hand was warm and soft in his own. He was pretty sure he could spend an eternity just looking at her.        “Yeah – it’s uh a nickname, you know…”        “Oh, I know, I was taught history in school. The Howling Commandoes and Cap were a big part of it. Just didn’t think you still went by it.”        A soft snort escaped him, eyes trained on her back as Y/N moved into the kitchen and opened up the fridge, presumably looking for something to eat.        “Why wouldn’t I?”        “Dunno,” she shrugged her shoulders, pulling out a jug of orange juice and scouring the cupboards for a glass.        “Third from the left,” he softly informed her. The smile Y/N flashed him made his heart skip a beat.        “So,” she started, “given how you’re gonna be my bodyguard or whatever, I’d like to know a few things about you.”        This never went over well. Sure, he was a hermit and rarely made friends, in fact, he never made any new friends, but when he had the opportunity, he somehow managed to screw it up.     Sam and Steve had even tried to set him up on some dates, but they either ended up with the woman walking away the second they came through the door, seeing the Winter Soldier at the table, or it turned out she was using this as an opportunity to get to the Avengers.    But given how Y/N was Stark’s relative, he had an inclination she didn’t need him for that. And it made him even more nervous. He was already fidgeting with the string of his hoodie, ready to completely shut down when she asked why he killed all those people while under Hydra's control, but what came out of her mouth was the last thing he expected.

       “Who names their child after president Buchanan?” Y/N was leaning against the counter, and if Bucky had been drinking that orange juice, he would’ve certainly choked. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, James is a pretty name, but… president Buchanan? I literally cannot remember a single thing he did. Not shitting on your parents, not at all, but you can’t tell me that you haven’t been asked this question before.”        “Actually,” Bucky said chewing on his bottom lip, trying not to let the large smile that was about to spread across his lips, take over his face, “I haven’t. No one has ever asked me why I was named after him.”        She seemed to contemplate his answer before downing the rest of her drink and leaving the glass in the sink. Stark would so be on her ass for not putting it in the dishwasher. “Had I been born back then and knew you, I’d make fun of it.”        With that said, she hollered an ‘I’m going to unpack and then sleep for the rest of the day’ while skipping down the hall, and he shook his head.        “Oh,” she appeared behind the corner startling Bucky from his thoughts way closer than he thought she was. “And you don’t have to be up any time before ten, James. I don’t deal with single digit numbers.”        “It’s Bucky,” he smiled. “You don’t have to be so formal.”        “I know,” there was mischief glinting in her Y/E/C eyes. “But we shouldn’t disrespect the name you’ve been given… James.”

***

       Y/N was woken up by incessant knocking at the door, to the point she thought it would fall out of its hinges. When she ignored it for half a minute, hoping whoever it was, most likely Tony, would go away, there was a glimmer of hope in her heart, that it had worked. Then the door shook again.        “Fucking hell, I’m coming!” she yelled, her voice gruff from being unused throughout the whole night.        Swinging it open with as much force as possible, Y/N gave Bucky Barnes the biggest glare of his life. Not even Natasha’s gaze on an early morning when he had stolen the last bits of coffee, induced as much fear as hers did. She had established herself as a wildcard, and well, he hadn’t instantly fallen in love with Nat, so there was also that.        “What?” Y/N sneered, hair swishing around wildly. She was like a cute dragon, and Bucky almost snorted. “It’s five o’clock in the fucking morning. Your job doesn’t start until I’m up. And I told you – I don’t deal with single digit numbers.”        “False, my job is to protect you and that’s 24/7, but that’s not why I’m here. Tony has added self-defence training to your schedule.”        “At five in the morning?! Jesus Christ, I’m going to kill that asshole. Hey FRIDAY,” Y/N said looking up at the ceiling as if the A.I. would physically appear somewhere up there.        “Yes, Miss Y/L/N?”        “How much would I get for first-degree murder in the state of New York?”        “According to the law – twenty years to life, and up to life without the possibility of parole.”        “Hmm,” Y/N shrugged nonchalantly. “I’m still pretty young. Guess it’s time to get prepared for prison.” She was just about to stalk out of her room and most likely tell Tony’s ear off when Bucky caught onto her arms and gently pushed her back inside.        “No need for violence,” he snickered, seeing her throw her head back with a whine. “Now come on. Fifteen minutes, and I expect you to be down at the gym.”        “I fucking hate you. Both of you!”        “Fifteen minutes!” Bucky said, leaving Y/N to change, and as he went to the elevator, just before the door closed, a loud ‘Fuck off!’ answered the statement.        Maybe this whole Avengers/ bodyguard situation wouldn’t be so bad after all.

***

       “Come on, put that anger you felt for me and Tony this morning to use,” Bucky’s knee was right against Y/N’s chest as she heaved a breath, blowing out a stray piece of hair from her face. It had been the fifth time he’d taken her down, and she had had just about enough.       “Two more reps, and then we’re done for the day.”        “Two more reps,” she grunted as she pushed Bucky’s leg away and onto the floor. “This is abuse. Abuse I tell you!”        Bucky rolled his eyes, tightening up the hairband holding his locks in place. “Now you’re just being dramatic.”        “I’m related to Stark, of course, I’m being dramatic. It’s in our blood,” Y/N snarked getting in a fighting stance.        “Remember, concentrate on the knees. That’s the weakest part from every advantage point.”        Giving Bucky a sarcastic smile, as if they hadn’t been going over the same move for the last two and a half hours, she prepared herself as he stalked towards the woman, ready to ‘attack’. His arms went to circle around Y/N’s body to restrain her, but as they did so, she ducked under his armpit elbowing him in the side. To that Bucky responded by grabbing her by the arm and twisting it around, but this time, she twisted along with it and went straight for his knee, harshly slamming her foot at the side of it, bringing Bucky to the ground.        But he was quicker. Instantly, he grabbed her by the ankle and flung her back. All the air got knocked out of Y/N’s lungs, bringing them to the same position they had been just a few moments ago.        “And despite everything I’ve taught you today, somehow, you’re dead, yet again,” his grip on her arms was tight, but the playful smile on his lips showed nothing but care.        “I hate this,” Y/N pointed up with her eyes around the gym, “I hate you,” she looked directly into his blue orbs making Bucky’s mind go blank, “and I hate Tony. I wish I had never come here, and I wish I was dead.”        “You’re really running for the position of the most dramatic Avenger, aren’t you?”        Y/N’s eyebrow shot up to the middle of the forehead, as Bucky got off of her and extended a hand for her to take. “You just called me an Avenger, so that gives me even more of a reason to act like this.”        “You get what I mean,” he laughed, shaking his head. God, she really was related to Tony.        Together they made their way up to the kitchen. The silence that had settled wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was, in a way, – unsure. Neither knew the another really, but both felt like they could be themselves.        “James, you know you don’t have to follow me everywhere. Especially while I’m in the Tower. We have FRIDAY, Tony’s practically impenetrable security system, and I’m pretty sure the rest of the guys are coming back later today.”        Despite him insisting Y/N called him by his nickname, as everyone did, he couldn’t deny the flutter in his heart when she addressed him by his real name.        “I know, but this is my job now,” he gave her a small smile. “Need to keep you safe no matter where, what or why.”        “At least tell me you didn’t sleep by my door last night,” Y/N sighed, chugging a bit of the water before her eyes widened. “Or worse, that you didn’t sleep at all, and stood there the whole time.”        “I can assure you, I got enough sleep.”        But there was something behind Bucky’s eyes that didn’t allow Y/N to fully believe his statement. It was just like when Tony told her he was alright after working in the lab all night, or when he said his anxiety and PTSD was in check. Or when he claimed he totally hadn’t forgotten a thing Pepper had mentioned and he was so ready to go to it.        “Can I ask, how exactly are you related to Tony?” Bucky’s question took Y/N out from her thoughts. “I’ve never heard Stark mention that he had any living relatives.”    “I’m his mother’s cousin’s daughter. I know, it’s a stretch, but he’s the closest family I’ve got.”    “Not that big of a stretch,” Bucky shrugged following Y/N as they slowly went to the elevator and to her floor. “I mean, Wanda is dating the human embodiment of a microwave. I’ve heard weirder stuff.”    “Wow,” she breathed out drinking the last bits of her water. “What doesn’t happen in a decade when you’re out of the picture.”        “Yeah,” Bucky murmured, “I can relate to that.” But it went unheard by Y/N’s ears. What didn’t you miss when being 70 years under Hydra’s control?        “James, I’ll be fine,” she spoke up as they approached her room. “I don’t think anything bad’s gonna happen while I shower. Of course, there is the threat that my horrible singing will lead to dancing and that will lead to slipping, but that’s all on me.”        “I'd say I should stay just to hear the concert, but I think I'll need protection from that cat choir then. I’ll be on my way to get a shower myself – “    “Good, you stink,” Y/N scrunched up her nose in mock disgust. The comment got her a roll of the eyes, but he wasn’t finished. And she knew where the conversation was going. “Can I just ask one more thing?”        “Uh, sure,” her lip was already between her teeth even before the question was out of Bucky’s mouth.        “Why am I acting as your bodyguard? Why do you need one?”        “Hasn’t Tony told you? Thought it’d be in the contract or whatever,” she knew he hadn’t, but it wouldn’t hurt to delay the inevitable. Tony had been very explicit that it was Y/N’s call to tell Bucky as much as she felt was necessary.        “No, and I’d just like to know what I’m putting my life on the line for.”        “I guess saying that bad people are after me won’t do, will it?”        “Look, I can’t make you tell me anything,” Bucky huffed taking a step closer, “and I’m the last person that would pressure you into something that you don’t want to do. But I feel like it’s the least I deserve to know. I need to know who we’re up against here. Who I need to be prepared for.”        Y/N hugged herself and looked everywhere apart from Bucky as she explained things. Well, not everything but the big overview. “My ex… he was uh involved with some very bad people. He worked for them, still works for them. For a while I was out of the country, moving from place to place… then the snap happened.”        Bucky gulped remembering Steve’s face being the last thing he saw before his body disintegrated.        “Next thing I know, I’m waking up in the middle of the forest where I was out on a run. Thought I just passed out, overworked myself,” she let out a teary chuckle. “Not the case. I uh, immediately contacted Tony. I knew the second someone said ‘Iron Man saved us’ that asshole had done some self-sacrificial bullshit. When I called Pep, and she told me he was alright, I practically collapsed. Went to his house straight away to give him a piece of my mind. I guess the relief, if only for a moment, completely made me forget what was going on in my life… and that’s when shit started to go down again. The uh ex made himself known again, and the threats started once more. Tony offered for me to stay in the Tower, and though I refused, and said I’d be fine, he has a way with words… so here I am, and so are you.”        This time the silence was tense, and uncomfortable before Bucky broke it.        “But that’s not all of it, is it?”        “That’s all that you need to know. The details don’t matter,” Y/N flashed him a tight smile. “I’m gonna go grab a shower. I’ll see you in a bit.”        Bucky couldn’t even interject before he was left alone once more just like the previous day, only this time not with a fluttering heart, but with a heavy feeling in his stomach and more questions than before.

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take): @shirukitsune @falling-stars-never-cry@lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91 @dalilx @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @sweet-ladyy @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan@thunderous-flower @who-cares-rn @projectxhappiness @callmebucky-doll @coal000 @killuaenthusiast @courtneychicken @sophiealiice @raquelbc2003 @watch-out-for-thorns @potentially-kinetic @thatonegirljessy99 @proxinge @bbkenna @buckysclub @ulired @fangirlofeverythingbasically @mrsalh32611 @horrorx570ximagines @the-nargles-made-me-do-it @pooslie @itsisabelanotisabella @httpmcrvel @purplebananatragedy @pxrrishly @parker-barnes-af @skulliebythesea @california-grown @piensa-bonito @belongsto-prachi @nerissa98 @happyseagrill @asguardiansoftheavengers @crazybutconfidentaf @wishingforahome @pizzarollpatrol @desir-ae @lavalampskyy 

A/N: soo, my tags for Bucky ain’t working and I’m genuinely pissed about that. Tumblr, wtf?! Get your shit together!

P.S. my tags are always open :)

P.S.S. feedback is always appreciated :)

[artificialqueens]

Sunshine, and Glory Too (Trixya) - Chapter 6 - fannyatrollop

A/N: This fic is honestly so special to me, because unlike all five billion other ones I’m working on… the damn thing is finished. When I first completed it, I was in a bit of a daze for a little while because it was such a major thing for me. I hope to get to that point with my other work, it’s a great feeling. And I hope the ending still holds up.

Previously On: Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five

Trixie kept to her own bedroom, and the main room in Violet’s quarters as she grew accustomed to being left behind.

Outside, the sun was bright and cheerful. She could hear birdsong wafting through the windows. Ignoring her pitiful requests for the reverse, Kim insisted on keeping them open for her.

“If my lady refuses to take in the fresh air by her own volition,” she would say, with exasperation and concern in equal measures. “It’s my duty as a friend to bring the air to her.”

Trixie’s only desire was to sit in the feeling of missing Katya, to the point of silencing the part of her that otherwise would not hesitate to berate her about how utterly ridiculous it was to live like a ghost, refusing to speak to another living soul or enjoy nature in the full splendour of spring. She became devoted to wallowing in misery in a way she never had allowed herself before, wryly thinking that she may have been better off crying over her every unhappiness when it first arose so she could have more practice in it.

Valentina called on her one morning, more contrite in her demeanour than Trixie had thought possible for her. She requested to see her alone, and Trixie agreed to it. Valentina may have been nasty in the past, but Trixie felt like she could handle whatever she chose to throw at her in her present state of mind.

There was no need to handle much of anything, though; Valentina proved to be on her best behaviour. She apologized for her indelicate treatment since, now that Trixie had been left quite alone, it seemed as though she might not have posed as much of a threat as Katya’s own willfulness. In her opinion, Katya had delighted in captivating both her and her poor, poor brother (who was already looking through eligible princesses for a more suitable bride, having learned the folly in attempting to harness a wild creature) only to abandon them when it struck her fancy.

“Not all common girls are like that, of course,” she said, while an uninterested Trixie exerted herself enough to maintain polite eye contact as she spoke. “But I do believe the character of the girl needs to be taken into account before one tries to work a miracle. Some people were simply not made to be royalty, regardless of how much help they receive. It’s simply not that easy, and being born beautiful does not a princess make.”

Thankfully, Valentina hadn’t taken the trouble to visit just to share her views on the requirements of royalty, or to flatter Trixie by suggesting she would have made a better candidate for a royal marriage. She had come into possession of Katya’s miniature, as it had been rejected by the fugitive’s would-be groom, and wished to present it to her as a gesture of goodwill.

“After all,” she explained. “You loved her the most.”

Trixie accepted it gratefully, though upon opening its case she found that the artist had not captured her fully. She had nothing to remember Katya by otherwise, so this would have to do.

After some days, she received a visit from Adore. The time had come for her to return to the sea, and she was on a quick farewell tour. She refused to leave without first presenting her dearest friends with tokens of her affection, even if they insisted on becoming hermits.

Trixie had to receive her. There was no knowing if they would ever meet again, and Adore had been a bright enough presence in her life to deserve that much. She bid Trixie not to miss her too much, leaving her with a glittering seashell affixed to a chain. If she could hear the sea when she held the shell to her ear, she would know Adore was well. She may even hear her sing, but Adore wasn’t too well-versed with the full capabilities of Trixie’s new trinket. She asked her to try speaking into it once in a while, in case the sound of her voice could reach her. She asked this of every lady she gave this type of pendant to.

They shared a warm hug, and parted ways. Trixie hung the chain around her neck. She found pressing the charm to her ear soothing, and would listen into it for hours while she remained stuck in her doldrums.

***

Kim soon resumed her original role as the princess’ chief dressmaker. She did not need to travel, she had built strong enough relationships to know where she could have the materials she needed sent for by then, but she was required to get back into the business of outfitting Her Royal Highness. The warm months brought on a need for an entirely new wardrobe, and as kind as Violet had been in giving leave for Kim to attend to Trixie, she could not go without just because one of her ladies was struck down by a lingering fit of heartache.

Being a person who was truly devoted to her work, this suited Kim greatly. However much she loved Trixie, she itched to serve her true purpose in her princess’ entourage. Trixie had neither the right, nor the desire to object. She had always liked watching Kim work, and took to sitting with her to pass the time. Though she was no longer any help, Kim would say that it was a vast improvement from her fast-paced lifestyle as a sad creature who only left her bed to sit on a sofa, and could not be relied on to eat three square meals a day if left to her own devices.

She carried Katya’s picture with her wherever she went. It hurt to look at her, but she felt better if her picture was nearby.

Violet finalized her engagement, and threw a small party in her quarters to celebrate. By then, Trixie was beginning to grow tired of moping, so she dusted herself off and made an appearance. Pearl had resolved to put on a brave face, and to be grateful that she was not obliged to part with Violet if she did not wish to.

Her mood suited Trixie’s, and the two found solace in each other as the evening went on. They both found the future uncomfortable to contemplate, so they spoke only of fond memories they shared, allowing silence to settle between them if they ran out of positive thoughts to share.

In time, Pearl found her way back to Violet’s side. They spoke softly, hands clasped, heads together.

Fame filled the empty space Pearl had left beside her. She had been monitoring Trixie closely in her own way, to make sure she was surviving well enough. Trixie informed her that she was as well as she could be.

“I’m glad to see you among us,” said Fame. “You have been missed.”

Trixie smiled.

“I intend to spend more time among the living,” she replied. “Keeping myself company is getting dull, I don’t make very lively conversation nowadays. I fear I might be mistaken for a palace ghost.”

“I think I heard someone whisper about a jilted lady haunting the halls,” said Fame.

“Must be another lady, I only haunt these rooms.”

Fame had no news of Katya, could only confirm that she had been given up for lost by the administration. It seldom happened that a lady escaped their care like this, but the main concerns when it did occur was conveying their regret to any injured royal parties and ensuring that the situation was framed as the actions of one foolish girl. The Academy as an entity would only concern itself with its own image. Katya mostly took her own belongings, and though Ginger was employed by the Academy, everyone knows that it is a fae’s prerogative to act as a free agent if she sees fit. A horse went missing from the stables, but replacing it was a simple matter. There was no danger of the fugitives being hunted by the Academy in the end.

Trixie nodded, and told Fame that she was glad to hear any information she was able to provide. In truth, she did not feel much better, but she appreciated the gesture.

She asked Fame if it was within a fae’s power to magically put her heart back together, just to ease her curiosity. Fame replied that it was doable, but not advisable.

“Emotions have a strong self-preservation instinct,” she said. “They would surely return, more devastating than when you last parted.”

She was advised to let her feelings run their course. There was nothing else she could do.

***

Trixie grew accustomed to the dull ache inside of her. She remembered what a loyal friend solitude had been throughout her life, and was resolved to be as good to it as it had been to her going forward. She had no hope of finding the kind of companionship she had lost again in her life. She had to get used to that, let her skin turn to steel.

She started helping Kim with her sewing again, jokingly offering her services as a permanent assistant if she was truly desperate. She hadn’t expected Kim to respond that she would be welcome to assume such a role if she pleased, but did not take it seriously enough to give a solid answer.

She picked up her instruments for the first time after weeks and weeks of depression. It was like getting reacquainted with an old friend, and she soon felt some cheer creep back into her life.

Wandering the halls aimlessly also became a favourite pastime. It was decent exercise, and if Trixie walked briskly enough she could forget her troubles for a moment. When she ventured outdoors, she avoided the lake, and found a new favourite place in the East Woods. They tended to be less crowded than the West Woods, for there was no remarkable beauty to be found in them unless one squinted. Sometimes, Pearl would join her and they would walk together, arm in arm.

Lately, their conversation had been focused on how odd it was that they had heard nothing from their mother since about Midwinter. She was not a prolific correspondent, but she had regularly sent small updates on the house, the surrounding village, how proud she was of Pearl, and her own well-being.

Trixie paid little attention to the content of these missives, as she was seldom addressed directly. Being caught up in love, and the loss thereof, had taken up too much of her attention to notice that letters had stopped coming. Thus, Pearl was the only one out of the pair of them who could find it in her heart to worry. She speculated aloud about the reason for this loss of communication, while Trixie listened. There was an appropriateness to discussing their family affairs in the middle of the woods, where a passing squirrel might be entertained by their little domestic drama.

“If Papa died, our cousin may have established himself at home and sent Mama away somewhere,” Pearl said, with a hushed voice and furrowed brows.

Trixie frowned. “Cousin Edward? Was that his name?”

“I believe it was Edwin,” said Pearl. “Or Edgar. In any case, if Mama’s silence means she has been put out of the house, we are effectively homeless.”

“You mean I am effectively homeless,” Trixie insisted. “You have little to worry about. Your place at court is secure, I can’t be so certain of mine.”

Pearl distracted herself for a moment by watching a small bird hop about from branch to branch above them.

“You are not the least bit concerned about Mama, are you?”

Trixie sighed. “I have very few feelings left altogether.”

“I guess you have always been a little heartless,” Pearl muttered.

She blanched, then, eyes wide.

“I don’t mean it in an insulting way,” she added, hastily. “I can imagine how you came to be so. Gosh, I must have sounded awful. What I meant to say is that no matter how tender your heart is, you have never been very open about it—”

Trixie waved her hand.

“Pearl, don’t worry,” she said. “I am heartless in regards to our mother. But the situation is truly concerning.”

“Even if Cousin Edbert has established himself as master of our house, he must be well-bred enough to send us a note about it. Just so that we know,” said Pearl.

Trixie snorted. “I wouldn’t say so, our family breeds terrible men.”

“But it breeds good women,” said Pearl. “If anything has happened, I will make sure you are taken care of. No matter what I have to do, my dear little sister will not be homeless.”

Trixie stopped them for a while so she could face her, and tenderly brush a lock of hair from her face. She let any cutting words about how they were twins, and that she was hardly little, die before they could make it out of her mouth. It was not the time for sass.

***

It did not take long for Trixie and Pearl to receive news from home, and though it was not as dire as they had imagined, all was not well. Their father had taken the time to write to them, confirming that he had not passed, but according to his account their mother had been ill for quite some time. She had not wanted to disturb them, much less Her Royal Highness, but her condition was not improving with time, as they had hoped it would.

The house was falling into disarray, as Papa was struggling with the demands of running a household while maintaining his rakish lifestyle. He wished for at least one of his daughters to return home, and to help tend to their mother. The servants needed direction, and only a woman could concern herself with domestic matters.

Of course, he wrote, your Mama would be glad to see her darling Pearl again if HRH Princess Violet can spare her, but as far as I am concerned you would both be capable of assuming this duty, so it makes no difference to me if Beatrice wishes to return in her stead.

There was no question of Pearl leaving Violet’s side, not when she was still in need of a companion abroad. She had been the one Violet had wanted to begin with, there was no reason Trixie should be left behind when Pearl’s company was more precious to her. Pearl had her own sort of chivalry, though, and the two of them nearly ended up in a screaming match over which of them would be forced to leave.

“Mama has never treated you as she ought to,” cried Pearl, in her valiant attempt to spare Trixie of what she thought was too horrible an ordeal for her to bear. “I do not wish to see you abused.”

“What could a sick woman possibly do to hurt me?” Trixie replied.

She excused herself to take the air before Pearl could be compelled to raise her voice, making sure to look Violet in the eye and proclaiming that Pearl would not be going home, before leaving. She was resolute, could not be convinced of a more logical course than to be the one to care for her mother whether the woman could find it in her to be grateful or not.

It was time for Trixie to mentally prepare herself to leave the Academy, a feat more difficult than she had thought. Her heart no longer had an anchor there, but it was still a place where she had found happiness, brief as it had been. At the very least she would have to say goodbye to as much of it as she could reach, like Adore had when she felt her departure approaching.

Trixie would have less time to do that than her friend had before her. News of their mother had reached the castle with their morning post, and it was scarcely high noon before her wanderings were cut short by Fame’s sudden appearance. Though she normally favoured lavender hues, Fame had come to her dressed head-to-toe in black.

“Her Majesty the Queen requires your presence,” she said, holding out her hand for Trixie to take.

***

Violet greeted her small household with the bearing of a queen, and a slight, but unmistakable redness around her eyes. Her voice never wavered as she informed them that it was time for all of them to go home. The throne was waiting for her.

Trixie lingered long enough after the address to catch sight of their new queen falling into Pearl’s arms before going to pack her things.

The king’s death effectively settled the argument of which sister would return to their mother. As far as anyone had known, the king had been in perfect health before he was carried off by a sudden bout of illness overnight. Violet needed her closest friends as she adjusted to her role sooner than she had expected, and she needed Pearl more than ever. As much personal power as she had gained in her father’s passing, Violet had loved him. As the queen’s woman, Pearl could not leave her.

Farewell messages were dispatched to the ladies that could not be left without a word, and the royal party was soon on their way home. Trixie recalled the journey to the Academy taking several days, yet their return was somehow a matter of hours. Fame had not given them the choice to remain awake this time around, requesting that they all let her induce them to sleep. Perhaps that had something to do with the speed of their progress.

Trixie was given a room at the palace to stay in for a couple of nights. She wrote home to advise that she would be arriving soon. She allowed herself some days to be available to Pearl, who would seek her out for a daily chat. She would update her on Violet’s condition, and how proud she was of the way she held herself up at every meeting she was required to attend, every audience she was obligated to give despite wanting nothing more than to be in Pearl’s arms for the whole day.

Violet summoned Trixie to offer her the choice of returning to court as a musician, when the situation at home had passed. She only requested that she take care not to embark on any more torrid love affairs, for the sake of her own sanity, though she said this with a wink. Trixie responded by telling her that she aspired to be an old maid, so there would be no more love affairs, torrid or otherwise.

“If that is what you want, I hope you will be comfortable enough imposing on our hospitality,” Violet said. “You will have to play for us, though. If you could be so kind as to become a renowned musician known across the land and outside of it, that would be much appreciated. We may regret our kindness otherwise.”

She suffered the most stilted embrace of her life in Violet’s arms, but was able to leave the interaction with some certainty of her sovereign’s favour.

Pearl held her in a much warmer, more lingering embrace upon her departure. As her carriage pulled away, she kept her eyes on the shrinking form of her sister, standing at the palace entrance until she was truly gone. When she lost sight of her, Trixie turned her gaze homeward.

***

Trixie was briefly received by her father upon her return home. It took her some time to recognize him as the man who had once stumbled into the nursery and picked her up for a drunken dance, while Pearl frantically reached to pull her back down, afraid of the strange man with the funny smell. He cleaned up pretty nicely, might even pass for someone worthy of a noble title, but he struggled to muster anything beyond the most basic pleasantries for his own daughter.

Predictably, her mother gamely tried to conceal her disappointment upon seeing her, but she did approve of the decision to leave Pearl with the queen.

“She must be so loved, that the queen couldn’t possibly spare her,” said her mother, hanging on to the faintest spark of joy she could get out of having to suffer Trixie’s care. “We may soon be truly respectable again, despite your father’s best efforts.”

Trixie did not tell her the depth of the queen’s love for her favoured daughter.

***

There were news of a dragon making a public appearance in some faraway land. Trixie heard them from a kitchen maid, who heard it somewhere in the village. One of the greatest mysteries of the world is how such giant creatures were so seldom seen, so whenever anyone so much as imagined catching sight of a dragon, it was a matter of public interest the world over. No details were to be had on what it looked like, where it had manifested, and if anything had gone up in flames as a result of it being there. Trixie imagined that if anything had been burned by dragon fire, it would be widely known. This one must have been on its best behaviour.

It was a testament to the magnificence of the event that Violet’s coronation was still spoken of at all, even with a dragon on the loose. Kim had sent copies of the sketches for Violet’s gown in the mail, so that Trixie could appreciate her friend’s work through them, and she could only just about hear the gasps of onlookers as she rode through the crowds in the capital. Pearl had been noted for her great beauty as she was spotted riding in a carriage with Fame behind the one that conveyed the queen.

She wrote with great amusement of how she had received at least three offers of marriage after that, but did not wish to consider them unless she was in dire need of a husband. She didn’t have any observable examples of a husband leading to greater happiness than what she could find with the love of a queen, and as long as it could maintain her she saw no need to fix herself to one. It delighted her that the clearer her position as the queen’s favourite became, the more people sought her favour, as she did not think there was anything about herself that merited such treatment.

With the imposed mourning period for the late king at an end, and the new queen’s coronation done with, it was time to set a date for the royal wedding.

Pearl had written to Trixie with promises of procuring an invitation for her, and seeing if their mother could be brought along. Perhaps, she mused, an official invitation to such a grand event would be just the thing to raise her from her bed.

Their mother clung to life so stubbornly that whatever was ailing her did not worsen, nor did it improve. Her symptoms were limited to a simple refusal to engage with the wider world in any way, as if all the bitterness in her heart had finally robbed her of her mobility. Whatever was keeping her shackled to her mortal coil was likely doing so in spite of her wishes.

If Trixie had ever formed a close bond with her, it may have been in her power to alleviate her condition. The best she could do was to keep the house running and let her mother retreat into herself, for she knew not where she could find adequate treatment for her. Sometimes she woke up in a sweat, having dreamt of taking her breakfast to her only to find herself lying in that bed instead.

She kept her mother’s windows open to let in the air, like Kim had done for her once. She dutifully sat by her side when she wanted company, and even played a song or two if she was asked. She had her meals sent to her on time, which was a small thing her father was not able to do when he had his hands on the reins. Her mother never praised her, but she never complained either.

Keeping up with news of her friends became the most important thing to her, as a way of keeping herself tethered to the world. She had almost succumbed to her sorrows once, and her fighter’s spirit would not allow that to be her eventual fate.

Valentina had written to Violet with news of her once-spurned brother receiving a peculiar visit on the eve of his wedding. She had been vague in her description of the visitor, but did say that it was a mutual acquaintance, and that dear Lady Beatrice might like to know of this strange happening. Pearl had included the news in the postscript of one of her more recent letters.

Trixie did not dare to hope, but there was only one person she cared about who might have business with Valentina’s brother, and it did bring her joy to hear that she was well. Ever since she received Pearl’s letter, she would catch herself entertaining the thought that Katya might still find her and take her away.  It did her no harm to lift her spirits with the occasional daydream as long as the chickens were fed, and the house was still standing.

Sometimes, she tried to picture herself as a married woman, but only as far as having a household of her own to run, one that would not be so surely taken away from her in due time. She could not picture her husband for the life of her, nor could she fully see Katya in that role. The life she had imagined with Katya had been different than that of a country wife, though she did think she would have liked keeping a comfortable home for her if she had wanted it. Perhaps if they ever got old and weary of travelling, they could have settled down some place where they could have a pretty view to look at from their sitting room window.

She kept Katya’s picture on her bedside table, propped up in its case so she could see it with a quick glance. Sometimes she would sit on her bed and play her lute, and she would imagine Katya there in the place of the picture. She missed the light she brought everywhere she went, she missed her laugh, and her touch, and the way she would look at her like she was a precious gift from the gods.

It was a small mercy that she could now look back on her time with Katya without pain, and it comforted her when she wanted to remember what it was like to be so happy.

***

The invitations to the royal wedding arrived one sunny morning, nestled alongside a letter from Pearl. Trixie let her mother know that she was welcome to attend, but she only shook her head at the notion, insisting that a frumpy old woman like her had no business at the court of a fashionable young queen.

“It’s up to you, and you alone, to quit wasting time,” she told her. “Pearl is so valuable to the queen that she’s been made a duchess, but the gods alone know where you will end up if you keep on refusing to apply yourself. You have all the tools you need. I’m determined to die soon, and your father can’t possibly live forever. That would be too cruel.”

Trixie left her to natter on if she wished, choosing instead to occupy her thoughts with pleasant ways she could spend the day. She decided to take a walk. There was a little copse nearby, where she could read her letter and think of how she might respond to it under the light of the sun. When she returned, she might play a little outside if the weather didn’t turn gloomy. The summer skies could be unpredictable.

She ended up on an aimless ramble, leaving the letter at home, letting her thoughts wander freely.

For a brief moment, the skies went dark, and Trixie heard a strange whoosh overhead, too alien to be the sound of thunder. Though startling, this was not followed by the coming of rain or the end of times, and clear sky was all that could be seen after the period of darkness.

Even so, she was compelled to hurry home in case there were more potential heart attacks in store for her. In doing that, she inadvertently ran headlong into the greatest of them all.

A dragon was stood on the grass near the front of her house. It was gray in colour, with small black spots and black hair growing in a mane along its neck. There was something rather horse-like about it, but it resembled the creatures she’d seen in books enough that it had to be some species of dragon. It had spared her flowers, and paid no mind to the servants crowded around the window to gaze at it in awe, as it was engrossed in covering an increasingly irate Ginger in smoke from its nostrils for what could only be its own amusement.

Katya was perched on its back, as high as she could to see as much as possible, and to be easily spotted by Trixie as she crept up the path home. She quickly dismounted when she saw her, cautiously approaching her where she stood.

Trixie stood stock still, waiting for the sight before her to vanish. She kept her eyes fixed on Katya, who only looked more solid and real the closer she got. She would have to catch up to the fact of her wildest dreams having come true when she came to be within touching distance.

Soon, Trixie would find out what Katya had been up to in the time leading up to that moment, accept her apologies for the way she had left her, and agree that they should never be parted again, at least not without sufficient notice. They would map out the life they would share together over tea, after she had introduced her guests to the household staff and worked out the best way to care for their needs, particularly those of the largest, most exotic of the group.

At that moment, though, all Trixie could do was gather her Katya into her arms.

[grailacademy]

Welcome To Grail Academy - Chapter Thirteen: Dearest

There is a tradition in almost all cultures of Remnant, fairy tales and legends shared between families that spread like wildfire, of silver-eyed warriors. Though the details and truth of this anomalie have been lost to time, the power of the words spoken is still there. People destined for greatness, being blessed with the mark of an old god. Those who believe in the magic of silver eyes were often old enough to hear the stories when they were first written. But this is not the only myth that was orated, at least in the old days. Just because the story of bright-eyed warriors is the tale that has survived the longest, doesn’t mean it was the only fable told. These same people, the elders, the old crones, the cooks, the hermits, the lineages of old families, may know another story. One with a much darker history...

Long ago, before the Great War, when the brother Gods still roamed the land with their creations, on the continent of what would soon be known as Menagerie, lived a man and a woman. They lived simple lives, secluded in the virtually untouched territory. The man was a farmer with a small plot of land, enough to grow his crop and keep himself well fed. His home was nestled on the Northern side of a large hill. The woman was a trapper with a sack full of pelts from animals that she had caught, ranging from rabbits to wolves. She lived on the Southern side of the hill. The man and the woman never crossed paths, they never saw each other, never walked around to see what was on the other side of the hill. For what reason would they have to investigate what wasn’t bothering them? They had all that they needed to survive on their own, they were happy.

One night, the farmer decided to have a meal made up of his fresh harvest. He shucked ears of corn, plucked bean pods from off their vines, harvested leaves of parsley, diced tomatoes, and pulled stalks of rice plant from his garden to make his dinner. When he was finished, he threw the leftover seeds, husks, and beans out behind his home, right where the hill started. The next day, when the farmer rose from his slumber, he was surprised to see that the pile of leftovers he had thrown away was growing sprouts, 5 tall stems breaching the loam. “I’ve never seen a crop grow this fast,” he said to himself, “the soil on this hill must be perfect for farming.” That day, the farmer planted rows of seeds, farther and farther up the hill.

The previous night, the trapper caught a large deer during her hunt, and planned to eat it for her supper. She skinned the hide, cleaned the meat, trimmed the fat, stoked a fire, and roasted the venison. When she finished her meal, she threw the leftover parts of the animal, the flesh left on the antlers, the hooves, the eyes, the inedible parts that she did not plan to eat, out behind her home. The next day, when the trapper rubbed the sleep from her eyes, she was surprised to see that 5 foxes were eating the scraps of meat and marrow she had left out. “I’ve never seen so many animals gather for scraps,” she said to herself, “there must be lots of burrows and bushes on this hill where they hide.” That day, the trapper set snares with bait, farther and farther up the hill.

As the farmer and the trapper made their ways to the top of the hill, the trapper spotted the top of a straw hat, and the farmer discerned the hood of a fur cloak. The man and the woman met at the very top, and the two of them locked eyes for the first time in both of their lives. Neither would admit it until much later, but they were smitten with the other. They began to exchange and share their spoils with each other, having dinner together every night. They taught one another the skills of their trades, raised chickens, and fashioned a comfortable life together. Over the course of many years, the two built a house on the very top of the hill where they had first met, and soon, they were husband and wife. They continued to live quietly, hunting and farming for only what they needed, and giving back to the land all that they could. The farmer and the trapper had never been so happy, they had never thrived so much before, they had never experienced a love like this. They wanted to stay like this forever.

The only thing they longed for was a child. They tried, 5 times, to no avail. It brought them sadness to think that they would never be able to share their love and wisdom with anyone else. This was the first time either of them had ever felt sad. Looking out at the 5 small mounds of loose clay in their yard brought them such grief that they could barely look at each other.

Many decades passed, and the Great War had begun and concluded without their knowledge. Then, one night, while the couple was having supper, the trapper stood from the table. “I wish to have a child. You know this. I am tired of waiting, if we cannot bare one ourselves, we shall grow one from the land.” That night, as they were sleeping, they heard whispers. Words resonating in their dreaming minds, coming from a voice deep inside the hill. When they awoke, they told each other of their dreams.

The trapper explained how she heard the voice of a woman, guiding her through the steps of a ritual, some kind of ancient magic that could bring life where there was none. The farmer talked about his visions of a dark haired woman, pale skinned and smiling, who waited for him with open arms at the end of a long cave, sitting next to a warm fire. The couple decided what they would do.

The trapper put on her fur cloak, and took a steel-jaw trap and a bow and quiver before leaving. She spent all day and night in the woods surrounding their home on the hill, watching and waiting in the pouring rain. It wasn’t until the moon was high in the center of the sky that she saw movement in the underbrush. It looked like one of the 5 foxes that lived in the warrens on the southern side of their hill, who constantly pestered their poultry at night. The creature caught its leg in the teeth of her trap, and before it could cry out, she shot an arrow to silence it and finish the job. Then, more rustling shook the surrounding bushes, and the other 4 foxes stepped into view to investigate their fallen brother. Quickly, she released 4 more arrows and shot all 5 of them.

While she was hunting, the farmer prepared a plot of soil on the top of the hill, where he knew the richest part of the land was. He dug a hole, 5 feet deep, in the center of their plot directly where North and South meet to represent the child’s parents. He planted Adder’s Tongue for healing, Bachelor’s Buttons for love, Caper for luck, Daffodil for fertility, and Ebony for protection, all around the hole. In the pit he placed 5 pomegranate seeds, for life and death. He worked there, on his hands and knees in the mud and rain, and waited for the trapper to return.

When the trapper reappeared over the hill, she flayed the 5 foxes of their fur and cleaned their pelts. The farmer uprooted the long-settled silt of the oldest grave, lifting a crumbling form no bigger than his forearm up into the rain. Delicately, the two of them wrapped the fragile frame in the fox pelts, and placed it down gently in the newly dug cavity. The soil they deracinated had turned soft and pulpy in the rain, and they scooped the mud and mire over the small shape with their hands like a blanket.

For 5 days and 5 nights, the couple waited for their desperate act to come to fruition. They were patient. At the end of the 5th night, just as the sun was beginning to peak over the horizon, they heard soft crying out in the yard. A strange feeling of fear overtook them for a moment, instinctually rushing to follow the sound. There, in the acreage where they had committed which was unheard of to the world, sat a baby. Miniscule in her mother’s arms, but round and portly like a plum, the infant cried and held its arms out, grabbing at the air. They had done it. They were a family. The farmer, smiling, allowed his newborn daughter to grab hold of his calloused finger. As the child opened her eyes for the first time, she was greeted by the sight of 2 loving strangers, and the warm feeling of the sun on her head.

As the girl grew, her parents found themselves losing track of their own lives. All of their crops and spoils of hunts went to feed her, all of their pelts and flowers were used to clothe her, and all of the love they had for each other went to worshipping her. Their daughter slowly hoarded everything they had, until the farmer and trapper had withered away for good….

Of course, this is only a fairy tale, a folk myth used in the earliest days of Remnant to warn children about trusting strangers, and to teach their communities about the dangers of greed and indulgence. But this does not mean murmurs in small towns spread, speaking of black haired banshees and pale mistresses in their sights

[wonkookiemon]

Supply Closet

Member: Yoongi  x  Reader

(feat. Jimin)

Prompt: Office work can be hectic and boring..... how about a little workroom fun.

Warnings: mature content, mature language, oral, public sex, dirty talk, quickie,masturbation, straight filth. 

Working at  Kim Advertisement had its good days and bad days. Good that the pay was somewhat great and because your company was one of the most sought out companies in the industry therefore giving you great hours at the job. Only downside is THE HOURS YOU SPEND A THE JOB. Yay! how fun.

You’ve been here since eight in the morning and haven't stopped working since. dying for a break you peeked over your cubicle and spotted your work friend Jina doing the same.

“Off for a break already” Jiso raised a perfectly plucked brow.

“Yeah, I’ve been hear since eight.” looking down at your watch, “Its twelve, I’m not a hermit”

“Yeah whatever, just don't take to long. I need those papers by five” Straightening her skirt Jiso walked back over to her office, with all eyes following her backside from all the male workers in the room.

“Skank” Jina rolled her green eyes while popping a fruit snack  in her mouth.

“Do you want us both to die Jina” you hissed grabbing her shoulder.

“Hey it was just on-”

“No eating in the workroom ladies” A low gruff voice spoke up behind the two of you. Slowly turning around your head held in shame and your heart beating unbearably fast. Min Yoongi. Min Fucking YOONGI. Your panties automatically began to dampen in his very presence.

“It was just me sir, she warned me not to” Jina stood tall, unfazed by Yoongi’s presence. In all honesty you tried the whole trying to be confident around Yoongi for 2 years and it has failed each time. There was just something about his smoldering brown eyes that held no emotion at all, or the way he scolded you when you fuck up his concentration, or even when he walked up to you to give you a copy of the schedule. You payed attention to almost everything little detail when it came to Yoongi. It wasn’t an obsession but he became an itch you can’t scratch. 

“If I have to tell you two again, Jiso will make your life hell” Yoongi stepped closer.

“She seems to be doing that already”  You mumbled looking up hoping no one herd.

“Excuse me?” Yoongi’s voice was on edge. You could tell he was on the verge of telling you both off. 

“Thank you Mr. Min, wont do it again-bye” Jina grabbed your hand and scurried to the break room. 

Once the two of you settled down you burst out into fits of laughter. “You should have seen his face when you said that shit y/n”

“I didn’t even expect that to come out of my mouth, I’m serious Jina-guess I was just sick and tired of his BS” Jina nodded in agreement.

“He’s such a prude sometimes. I herd he’s nothing like that outside of work though-”

“You’re kidding right?” you whispered.

“No, Jeni from cube nine saw him at the bar with friends, said he was piss drunk, laughing AND smiling with his friends. Jina shoved yet another handful of blueberries in her mouth.

“You’ve gotta find another way to eat man” you grimaced, the girl didn't know what a fork and spoon were.

“Whatevah- he was smiling y/n! do you think he has straight teeth?” 

“Look that's besides the point, I generally just want to get in his pants.”

‘-so what's stopping you?”

“Uh the fact that he hates me” you looked down at your unfinished plate of pasta, ashamed at the fact that Yoongi most likely has nothing to do with you.

“He’s a fool you know?” Jina smiled softly.

“Yeah?”

“For blowing you off that night, I think he hasn't gotten over the fact too. He frustrated with you y/n.”

“I don’t believe you” you laughed.

“He’ll given soon, just you wait”

Later that night you settled in your bed after a warm bath. Mind still racing from the events of today. Yoongi never ceases when it comes to getting under your skin. Later that day while he wasn’t aware of your presence per usual, you watched him type of this weeks finance report. What made this ordinary act so sexual was the fact that it was done by Yoongi. His tongue would dart out his mouth to lick his lips, when he tongue wasn't out he was then biting his lips. You could see some of the frustration etched on his face the way his mouth cutely pouted. Then there was the phone calls he made. Hearing his deep voice as he talked to the whomever was the highlight. It was the slow draw of his voice that made moan at the thought of it.

“Fuck” you moaned softly as you let your hands trail into your thin underwear. You’ve held off for so long, you simply couldn't wait any longer as you began to feel your body heat up.

“Fuck min Yoongi”  you groaned caressing your slick folds.

You imagined his sweaty form above you, knuckles deep into your heated pussy. Whispering how much of a dirty slut you were, while his other hand wrapped around your small throat giving you just what you wanted.

A familiar ringtone began to play causing you too stop in your tracks. Speaking of the devil you grabbed your phone and saw Yoongi’s name on the screen. Straitening up in your bed you answered the call.

“H-he- Hello?”

“Y/n yah” Yoongi drawled lazily.

“Uh- yes Sir” you squeaked, rolling your eyes in frustration.

“We’re not at work. its Yoongi”

“Oh-Uh-Knew that”

“Listen, I need your help with something” 

“Uh, what it it?” you asked softly.

“I’m outside your door”

“What?! How did you-”

“Open the door. y/n”

You got up quickly from your bed, adrenaline running through your veins. You fixed your hair and gripped the knob. ‘this is crazy’ you thought. Opening the door, there stood Min Yoongi and boy did he look good. he wore a black tee that hung low on his chest giving him a more sultry look, to top it off was a pair of light blue ripped jeans and black sandals. Glancing up to look at his face you tried your best to smile.

“Hey what’s up”

Yoongi cocked his head to the side his eyes trailing the cloth-or what little cloths you were wearing. His dark eyes finding yours so you could barely look away. Everything about this moment made your body scream. He keeps toying with you and he knows it. Without a word Yoongi began to walk towards you making you step back with every inch he took till the door was shut and your back pressed against it.

“Yoongi-” you whimpered, feeling your heat clench around nothing. You needed him so bad, and he knew it making him chuckle. Your jaw clenched in frustration at Yoongi’s dismissal. Yoongi them lifted his hand to caress your heated cheek, he let his thumb travel to your plump lower lip.

“You’re so whinny” Yoongi mumbled huskily.

“You keep playing games with me, I can find someone else who is more capable of giving me what I need.” You gritted out. Yoongi responded by gripping your chin harshly and raising it so that you can meet his eyes which were burning with desire. 

“No one can fill you up the way I do baby, so watch yourself”

“I’ve been waiting” You licked your lips knowing his thumb would end up getting wet by your tongue as well.

“I need you to do one more thing for me” Yoongi asked, his full lips inching into a breathtaking smile.

“Yoongi I swea-” Yoongi dropped to his knees and trailed his warm hands up the length of your long legs. You bit your lip at the sight of him on his knees in front of you. “Enjoy it while it last y/n” Yoongi planted heated kisses up your thigh till he paused right before planting an open mouth kiss on your clothed clit. Your knees nearly buckled at the shot of pleasure that flowed through he body. Yoongi chuckled again making you grab his hair.

“Cut it out” you moaned when you felt his through the fabric. His hands hooked to the sides of your panties and he gently pulled them down your legs.

“Fuck you’re so wet” Yoongi groaned. He trailed his fingers down your wet  entrance and watched as his fingers come back soaked. Yoongi pulled his two fingers into his mouth.

“So sweet” Yoongi smiled with his eyes shut in pleasure. 

“Yoongi” you begged still gripping his hair.

“Lean back” Yoongi opened his eyes with a smirk. Doing as he asked you leaned back into the door, and gasped when his lips wrapped around your clit. Yoongi sucked harshly, your hips bucked into his mouth wanting more. You could feel his smile on your clit, before he licked a long strip between your folds. Without mercy his used his tongue at a relentless pace as he sucked your clit between his teeth. You could no longer hold in your screams at the abusing of your clit. Your legs were almost about to give out before Yoongi pushed back breathing in air deeply. Your head fell back on the door as you sighed in relief which became short lived when Yoongi shoved three fingers in your pussy.

“shiiiiiiiiiii-” You moaned with a smile.

“Don’t you just love being filled up by my fingers” Yoongi rasped.

“Fuck yes” you body trembled when Yoongi picked up your leg and threw it over his shoulder giving him a new angle. He hit your g-spot each time making your body limp with pleasure. The build up in the pit of your stomach began to rise and you could feel your body getting closer to the edge.

“Faster, Yoongi I’m going to cum” you gripped his hand.

“Then cum” Yoongi growled, and attached his lips around your clit once more, bringing you to the edge, your body shook in pleasure, as Yoongi to out his fingers and let you ride out your high on his mouth. You then felt Yoongi’s fingers slide back into your heat and you squirmed at the over stimulation. You felt his fingers leave yet you still felt full of something. Your mind then clicked and you saw the satisfying smirk that came on Yoongi’s gorgeous face as he took the remote out of his pocket and flipped the switch. 

“I hate you” You hissed as your body sunk to the floor. The vibrator Yoongi put inside you buzzing at a low speed. Standing up Yoongi grabbed your hand and made you stand to your feet.

“Don’t you dare take that out of you okay?” Yoongi held your hips in his hands firmly to make his point. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, Yoongi.”

“I have a lot in store for you y/n, get some rest I’ll see you in the morning” Yoongi glanced back over his shoulder before making his way out. 

Tomorrow you’ll finally get what you want.